


Blue Eyes

by Night28



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bondage, Daddy Kink, Dark Gil Arroyo, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, Flogging, M/M, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Stalking, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:20:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23129947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Night28/pseuds/Night28
Summary: Three years before Tennessee, Malcolm was forced to New York on a series of murders that had ties to organized crime. Through chance, Malcolm meets Gil Arroyo the head of a large Family who is instantly drawn to the blue eyed profiler and plans for their future whether Malcolm knows or wants it.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright, Malcolm Bright & Martin Whitly, Malcolm Bright/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 32
Kudos: 115





	1. Chance

**Author's Note:**

> So this idea bit me and didn't let go. I'm still working on Father Knows Best but Mob!Gil with stalking and obsessing over Mal was just too fun to pass up. Huge thanks to KateSamantha for editing this monstrosity and making sense of the word vomit.

Gil Arroyo was seated at his desk, going over reports from his underlings when his head of security walked in, face grim. It was most likely in regards to a recent string of murders of, well, his competition. It was putting pressure on his business. Cops were poking around more frequently, but his brief time with the Force had taught him how to cover tracks and keep control.

“Boss we’ve got a problem,” JT said, “another dead and rumor is that feds are heading here.” 

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose,  _ not the time for this _ , Gil thought. Major changes were in the works between the Yakuza and the Triads. If things worked out like he hoped, Gil’s power would be secured along with strong alliances with both.  _ Provided shit doesn’t go sideways. _

“Anything on this death from your contact?” he asked, stroking his goatee. 

JT sighed, “Nothing concrete. The lieutenant in charge, Shannon, is playing things close to the chest; he wants to keep this with Major Crimes and not have it go to the Organized Crime team. Though should we maybe drop a hint that someone is attacking random mid to low level guys? Keep it with murder so we don’t draw attention?”

He sighed softly, “Let it be for now. When your contact gets more information on the killer, or some more solid intel about the FBI coming in, let me know. We’ll have to get ahead of them.”

JT nodded and left Gil to his thoughts.  _ Shannon’s right to keep this one, but not for the reason he thinks. Maybe getting the FBI involved could help, best keep my people discreet.  _ He stretched his arms above his head, spine popping. So much work and nothing would get done if he put attention on the case himself. JT had been a lucky find and was the loyalest of his captains. He put it to the back of his mind, instead making sure that the numbers were good.

** 

Malcolm stared at his boss, “You’re not serious, right?”

The section chief just shook her head, “The lead of Major Crimes asked for the best person I have that knows New York, and that’s you. Bright, I need you to go there, do your job, and come back. No stepping on toes or going in without backup, and for the love of god, do not cause another ruckus.”

Malcolm rolled his eyes, “C’mon, last time wasn’t that bad. What could I possibly do in New York that would be worse than Kentucky?”

Cruz just stared at him, “Bright, if you fuck up that bad again, you’re fired. So do we have an understanding?” 

From her stance alone, he realized Cruz was deadly serious, which made Malcolm panic internally,  _ thin ice, really thin ice.  _ He forced his thoughts into order, “I glanced at the file. It looks targeted at Organized Crime, wouldn’t someone from that division be a better fit?”

“They think it might be someone with a vendetta going after mob Families, not someone actually in one of the Families. But I did include another file, one with higher ups and connections I got from Steele in Organized Crime. Read this on the way. I’ve got things to do.” With that, she strode off, leaving Bright staring after her. 

_ Ten years, a decade and I managed to not go home.  _ Shit. _ Not telling mother, just stay— _ Malcolm stopped and felt poleaxed,  _ Ains. Ten bucks, this is her case. _ A sudden urge to beat his head against the nearest wall was almost impossible to resist.  _ Only way this gets worse is if Shannon is going to be there.  _

He picked up the folders gingerly, something in his gut told him that this was going to be a bad one. Whether the case or something outside, it was going to go wrong. Feeling eyes on him, Bright looked up and saw Swanson glaring at him.  _ I’d love to give you the case; I don’t want to go to New York.  _

With a sigh, Malcolm walked out and headed towards the air strip where the plane was waiting. He would hopefully get some sort of read on the crime and possible suspects during the relatively short flight. Working through the file, Malcolm pulled out the portion with the mob information. There was a lot of names and information but Malcolm focused on the heads of the branches. 

Working through the file, he noticed there had been interesting shifts in the power dynamic during his time away. There was a new head that had gotten into power relatively quickly and that wasn’t the norm.  _ Gil Arroyo — will ask about him. His operation has benefited from a few of the murders.  _

The rest of the flight passed while Malcolm stared out the window. There was so much flying around that Malcolm couldn’t keep up with it all. Hopefully there would be minimal chance of actually seeing his Mother.  _ Let’s not even think about seeing Martin. _

He was jolted out of his thoughts as the plane bounced a bit on landing. He took a deep breath, trying to do all he could to force himself to relax and appear unaffected. He wouldn’t let whomever was leading this case know that he wasn’t at ease. The only small hope that he had would be that Ains was on something else for the week.

  
He moved quickly through the airport without speaking. _No one’s waiting here with a car._ Anxiety ate at Malcolm, _too many unknowns_. Flagging the first cab that he could outside the doors, Malcolm muttered the address for the precinct. _Thank someone, you don’t want to talk_ , he mused. Nausea was turning his stomach and it took all that he had not to throw up bile. 

The cab driver grunted, which pulled Malcolm out of his thoughts. “Thanks,” he said before handing over cash and a hefty tip. The people who worked with the general public and its insanity deserved so many thanks that they never received. He shoved his hand into his pocket to hide the shaking. The building looked as ominous as it did when he was ten.  _ Breath two, three, four. Out, two, three, four. Breath two, three, four. Out two, three, four. _

Malcolm was overwhelmed by the sudden volume of raised voices, general office work, handcuffs rattling, and phones ringing. He pulled the Whilty mask into place, no one would see his discomfort, use it against him, or figure out who he was. Malcolm pulled his badge out and turned to the officer at the desk. “Can you point me to Major Crimes?”

The officer behind the desk looked bored, “Third floor, then turn left. Bullpen’s through there.” 

Malcolm nodded his thanks and headed for the stairs.  _ Get in, get out, go home.  _ He kept repeating that to himself as he walked up to the waiting office chaos. As Bright’s eyes flicked across the room, he stopped dead in his tracks.  _ Fuck, fuck, fuck…. _ Owen Shannon was walking towards him and Malcolm jammed his right hand into his coat pocket.  _ Couldn’t ever forget you. Fuck whoever decided I was a good fit. _

His face was grim, “Lieutenant Shannon, happy that you made it in so quick.”

Malcolm stuck his left hand out before Shannon was able to, “Malcolm Bright,” it was a quick handshake, “Do you have a room with the file?”

“Yeah, through here. I’m also going to arrange for you to meet the head of one of the Families I noticed that he’s benefitted from some of the deaths. I don’t think this is actually a Mob war, but it’s definitely doing Arroyo some good.”

Malcolm paused for a moment, running through the second file he’d read on the plane. “From what I read, though I mostly work profiling, he climbed up the ladder fairly quickly and then started his own people. Am I wrong?”

Shannon gave a loud snort. “He’s a ruthless fuck but Arroyo has a code. He doesn’t kill those who aren’t in the business, won’t traffic people, and does his best to deal no collateral damage if there’s a dispute.” 

Malcolm hummed softly, “That’s interesting. Do we have any information on his background? That’s an odd code of behaviour for someone involved in the Mob.”

Suddenly Shannon got shifty, “Somewhere, probably with the task force that works his Family. You know departments—not good at sharing information.”

Malcolm bit back the snide remark he wanted to make, Cruz’s warning ringing through his head.  _ No making trouble or punching officers. _ “For these murders, what I could see is that person isn’t a professional or a hitman of any sort. So if anyone asks, that could potentially eliminate that this is an Organized Crime case. It’ll keep you in control of the case.” They closed the door once they were in the conference room.

As he stood before the cork board filled with the victims, Malcolm focused on the crime scene pictures. Brutal, efficient—each one knelt before being shot in the back of the head.  _ Looks professional, but it’s not. _ The pictures of the bodies were interesting. “Was the ME able to determine the age of the bruising?” 

Pages shuffled and Shannon cleared his throat, “According to Dr. Tanaka, those were all delivered shortly before each victim’s death. What’re you thinking?”

“I’m not sure, but what if the bruises were from the killer? He attacked and beat them into submission before executing them. Is there a chance that these men were connected? Besides the obvious way.” 

Shannon went quiet and then, “Let me see what I can find. The problem is each of these guys had a long rap sheet and it’s taking a bit to get all their history worked out.” 

Another huff had Malcolm actually making eye contact with Shannon. “If you’re going to see that fucker now, you’re gonna have to go with another detective. Arroyo has a restraining order against—well, let’s say it’s for the best if he and I aren’t in the same general vicinity. Thinge tend to get ugly.”

_ There’s history there. I should look into that when I don’t have Shannon hanging around. _ “Who would be a good person to accompany me?” Bright asked. 

Shannon opened the door and stuck his head out, “Powell!” he yelled, and the din’s volume lowered slightly, “Take Agent Bright to meet with Arroyo.” 

A woman with long curly hair glanced at Shannon and nodded, Bright noted that they didn’t seem to have a particularly warm relationship.  _ Shit. Why didn’t they give this to Colette?  _ He moved towards her slowly, wary. He stopped and held his hand out, “Malcolm Bright, it’s a pleasure. You must be Detective Powell.”

Her dark eyes analyzed him before she shook his hand, “Likewise. Let’s go, gotta make a call.” She turned on her heel and moved quickly through the room, away from Shannon.

Bright tilted his head slightly with narrowed eyes. Though her body language broadcasted her intense dislike of Shannon, she was undecided about Malcolm personally, and whoever the call was to wasn’t threatening, to Powell at least.  _ Interesting, let’s see what’s going to happen _ . 

Malcolm caught up with her just as she pocketed her phone. Powell turned when she heard his footsteps. “Meeting in 20 at St. Patrick’s church. Neutral ground for cops and organized crime.” 

He nodded once and continued to follow her to a dark SUV. As she started the car, Malcolm stated, “Interesting. I didn’t realize that an agreement had been worked out. Most major areas, to my knowledge, don’t have this setup but I could be wrong. My usual work focuses more on serial killers. When was that accord set up?”

Powell arched an eyebrow, focused on navigating traffic, “Late 90s, the lead in Organized Crimes would know more.” 

Malcolm forced himself not to profile the Detective, it would make things difficult if he pissed her off and was stuck with Shannon.  _ More time together would mean a higher probability of him figuring out my identity.  _ He mentally slapped himself.  _ Pull yourself together. Get in, do the job, get out. _ “Were you on scene for any of the victims?”

Her lips thinned, “Briefly. I was called to a murder-suicide about ten minutes later.” Powell’s eyes were narrowed and her nostrils flared.

_ Body language closed off, anger about being moved from the scene, cold relationship with Shannon. Was very likely moved to Major Crimes without his approval, and he takes it out on her.  _ “How long have you worked in the Major Crimes unit?”

The question startled Powell, she briefly glanced over at him before refocusing on the road, “‘Bout a year and a half. You’re a profiler. How long you been doing that?”

Malcolm wanted to smile, he knew what she was doing, but could appreciate that bare bones answers.  _ Can’t blame her after all. _ “Officially? A decade with the FBI. I studied psychology, criminal justice, and sociology. Been doing profiles since junior year of college.”

A soft noise of assent and Powell asked nothing more. The remainder of the ride was silent.  _ A lot has changed in the city, but much was still the same.  _ There was a lot to learn in this meeting with Arroyo but Bright was relaxed.  _ After all I’m mostly sure that the Mob isn’t involved beyond being the victims. _

**

Gil walked into the sanctuary and went straight to the altar where he knelt and crossed himself. JT was three steps behind and to the left, carefully putting himself between the officer and Gil’s body. A soft murmur of a Hail Mary and Gil stood. His attention went to the woman. They’d had meetups before. As he settled, Gil noticed a slight man sitting just to her right. 

_ Fuck, those pretty blue eyes, that  _ mouth _. Focus, Arroyo,  _ he told himself,  _ determine who the pretty boy is later. _

“Detective, good to see you. Who’s your friend?” Gil shifted a bit to get a better look at the man. His eyes were gorgeous and his dark hair was styled out of his face.  _ Fuck, he’s pretty.  _ As he studied the man in front of him, Gil had to hide his smirk. The kid was reading him.  _ Not a regular cop _ , he mused. 

Powell snorted, “Not a friend. FBI. Special Agent Malcolm Bright.” Her answer was short and clipped.

Gil kept his face impassive, but surprise surged through him, “Malcolm,” he said, holding out a hand, “Gil Arroyo. It’s a pleasure.” He smiled slightly when those blue eyes jumped over his face but grasped and shook his hand. “Wish we were meeting under better circumstances, I feel that I could learn a lot from you.”

The handshake was firm and Bright kept eye contact.  _ Hmm, fuck I want to make you kneel.  _ Bright raised an eyebrow but said nothing, his eyes still flickering over Gil. “This your first time in New York?”

The man made a noncommittal sound, “Not the first time, but it’s been awhile.” 

_ Oh, I  _ like  _ you,  _ he mused,  _ non-answers are so much fun. What are you hiding, Bright? _ Gil nodded, “Well, since it’s been some time, how about I take you to dinner after we get this wrapped up?”

The agent shifted slightly, Gil caught a ripple of unease before it was buried under a dimpled smile, “That’s a lovely offer, Mr. Arroyo, but I’m going to have to leave immediately following this case’s conclusion.”

_ So polite, good manners.  _ He ran fingers over his goatee, “Pity. I’m sure we can find time while you’re still in town.”

At this point, Powell spoke up, “Arroyo, we had a couple of questions. A lot of these deaths have been awfully good for you.”

Gil let his disappointment show as he turned back to Powell, “Detective, can’t we exchange pleasantries and be civil before getting into business? After all, we are civilized people.” A muscle ticked in her jaw as she fought back a snappy retort. 

Bright spoke again which pulled Gil’s eyes back to him, “We  _ are _ pressed for time, but my mother would be absolutely appalled if I let my social niceties fall to the wayside. You seem well, Mr. Arroyo, but how are you doing?” 

The soft voice and inflection interested Gil, but humoring the younger man, “I’m well. It’s nice to have social niceties followed, after all courtesy goes a long way toward everyone’s cooperation.” He cleared his throat, “So you said that some of these murders could potentially have had a beneficial outcome. Which ones and why?” 

Powell shifted and sat down, gesturing for the others too, as well. “The last three deaths have all been connected with rival groups, ones that have caused trouble with your imports.” She handed Gil the mug shots of three low level enforcers from  Ivanov’s Family. “Is there a chance that this is someone you’ve helped in the past and they’re trying to help you?”

He tilted his head and looked at Powell. “If I was involved in things of this nature, I wouldn’t let someone run around and beat the shit out of these men, then execute them. You attract more flies with honey than you do with vinegar. It would make things worse with Ivanov. No, my guess is that you’re looking for someone who has no ties to any of the organizations.”

Powell raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical of Arroyo. “So someone just happens to be killing these guys and isn’t trying to help you out, they just randomly kill members of—”

Gil cut her off, “I’ve told you what I know, Detective. No one within the Families that I’ve spoken to has had anything to do with these deaths. Whoever’s doing this,” he gestured, “isn’t someone who knows the ins and outs.” With that, Gil stood. 

“Since that’s all I have, I’m afraid I’ll need to leave, I have other matters to attend to.” He glanced over at Bright and pulled out a card from his suit pocket. “Here, if you happen to have any more questions or get some free time on the case.” Gil stroked the other man’s knuckles as he moved away. “As always, lovely to see you, Powell. It’s been a pleasure, Mr. Bright.”

Gil felt JT slip into place just beside him as they walked out of the church and to the waiting car. He was quiet, mind racing with questions about the FBI agent who’d caught his attention.  _ Need to find out what division he’s in, where he’s from, how to run into him again. _ As Gil pulled himself from his thoughts, he glanced at JT. “I need you to use your contacts and find everything that you can on Malcolm Bright.”

JT cocked his head. “You worried about him, Boss?”

Gil shook his head. “Not in the way you think. He’s fascinating and I want to know everything I can about him.” 

_ He’s smart and hiding something. But I’ll find out; I always do. He seems gentle, but there’s a fire under that façade.  _ Gil stared out the window for the rest of the ride. It had been awhile since someone had caught his attention and held it. _ Only Jackie,  _ he mused,  _ but oh, he’ll be as special as she was.  _ The car was silent for several minutes before Gil spoke up to the driver. “Make a stop at the cemetery. I need to have a talk.”

The driver nodded and adjusted course; JT narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. Gil didn’t particularly care. Maybe Jackie had something to do with the sudden appearance of this gorgeous man. Maybe it was her finally saying okay to him moving on. He was lost in his thoughts and going over his interaction with Malcolm.  _ Only problems,  _ he mused, _ are he’s FBI and not living in the city. _

With traffic, it took a little over twenty minutes to get there and a few minutes once inside to get to Jackie’s headstone. “Stay here,” he told the driver and JT firmly. “I’ll be quick, then we can move onto other business.”

JT looked like he wanted to argue, but Gil raised an eyebrow, “You can see me. This is a private conversation between myself and my wife.”

That stopped JT and Gil left the car. A few yards and he knelt before Jackie, the love of his life. “Sweetheart, I know it’s been a few weeks, sorry, life got out of control. I’ve missed being able to talk to you.” Gil paused and let the soft breeze ruffle his hair for a moment before continuing, “Don’t worry, I’ll come see you more often after this killer is caught.”

Fall was moving in on the city, but it was still warm, and the birds hadn’t left yet. Gil could hear one singing softly. “I met someone today, I think you would have liked him. He’s hiding something, but he’s so young. I could see his stress.” He brushed his fingers over the engraving on the headstone, “Jackie, sweetheart, did you send him to me?” The wind picked up slightly, and Gil smiled. “Of course you did. You always told me you wanted me to be happy. If I see him… three more times, does that mean you want me to move on with him? I’ll still come see you, bring him with me so you can get to know him.”

A soft flutter of wings and gentle singing made him look up at the tree a few yards from where he sat. The bird warbled again and Gil realized it was Jackie’s favorite bird, a Yellow Rumpled Warbler. This was her agreeing. “Oh my darling, I hope you realize that even if I do get those three meetings, I’ll always love you, too.”

Gil stayed where he was for several more minutes talking to his wife, telling her everything, much as he had done when she was alive. “I love you, always,” he whispered, tracing over her name. “I’ll bring him to meet you as soon as I can. Something tells me he’s going to be a stubborn one.”

The weight that had been on Gil’s shoulders eased and he walked towards the car but stopped to look back at the bird that still sat there.  _ I knew you wouldn’t leave me. Thank you for your blessing, Jackie, I wouldn’t have moved on without your okay. _

He opened the back door and slid back in next to JT. “Driver, my office please.” He looked back over at JT. “Get someone on Malcolm Bright. I want to know where he is at all times. No one is to hurt him.”

A dark brow rose but he simply nodded and pulled out his phone and messaged people to get moving. If they didn’t meet three times then Gil would wait until Jackie gave the okay again.  _ Three is the number. _

The city was a blur as Gil thought about Malcolm Bright, the boy was fascinating and he hadn’t spoken much while in the church, but one look told Gil that he had words.

**

Malcolm tilted his head as Arroyo and his guard left the church and looked at Powell, “Is Arroyo like that all the time?”

Her shoulders were a tense line. “We’ve only met a couple of times. Usually it’s info and he leaves. No chit chat, just answers for things.” She turned to face Bright, her dark eyes darted over his face, “There’s something about you that had him interested. I’d take care not to see him anymore, if possible.”

Malcolm realized that Powell was concerned, and something loosened in his chest. “It’s probably just the FBI thing. He’ll have someone look into my background and see what exact part of the FBI I work in,” he said. “He looks calm and friendly, but even after only a few minutes—there’s something under there that has teeth.”

She snorted, “Fucking course he has teeth, wouldn’t lead a Family if he didn’t. If you’re curious about his work, Organized Crimes has a file dedicated to murders that they’re sure he’s involved with.” The keys jingled in her hand. “Arroyo’s always made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.” Her honesty startled Bright. “I think there’s a lot we don’t know about that man and I’m not sure how he did it, but his file was wiped shortly before he just appeared on scene.”

Malcolm opened his mouth to say something, but Powell shook her head. “That’s it. You want more, either you talk to Shannon,” she grimaced but continued, “or you talk to Organized Crime.”

The ride back to the precinct was quiet, and Malcolm was left to his thoughts. He pulled out the files and looked at the pictures. He focused on the bruising. It was familiar but his brain was stalling out.  _ Must do some digging. _ So lost in thought was he, Malcolm didn’t realize they’d pulled up and parked. As Bright flipped the files closed, he glanced up and had to stop from groaning.  _ Of course Ains is here. God forbid that I catch a break. _

Powell took in the expression on Malcolm’s before following his eyeline. A look of distaste crossed her face before it was schooled into a neutral visage “Not handled press before, FBI boy?”

Malcolm just shook his head. “I’ve dealt with them several times, all on serial killer cases. It still doesn’t change the fact that I don’t like it.”

Powell went silent and looked at him. “What exactly  _ is _ your department, Bright? Shannon neglected to mention that.” Her eyes were sharp, studying him.

Malcolm wetted his lips. “I’m part of the Behavioural Science Unit…” he trailed off, looking away. “I profile people.”

Powell was already still but went absolutely stiff. “You do that shit to me, I’ll make Arroyo look like a saint. We clear?”

He held his hands up, “I don’t profile people that I work with. Bad taste and well… someone mentioned that I get intense and don’t realize things occasionally? So I just don’t do it deliberately unless I’m looking at a case or perp.”

Brown eyes searched his face. “But you can’t turn it off, can you?” Her question was shrewd and to the point. “Is that why Shannon called you here?”

Malcolm shrugged, “He didn’t ask for me specifically, just the best profiler that also happens to know the city. My supervisor chose me and here I am. I can’t turn mine off any more than you can yours. Can you walk into a room and  _ not _ scan the people in it to judge where not to go?”

At Malcolm’s words, her body relaxed. “You’re not wrong, but why do this job? You’re smart, you knew something was off with Arroyo and that was your first encounter.”

A self-deprecating smile curled Malcolm’s lips. “It was the only thing I was good at.” His words were cryptic, and he knew that, but didn’t care. After all of this wrapped up, it was unlikely that he’d see Detective Powell again. “Doesn’t hurt when you need to know what the people around you are considering when you’re a teenager.”

With that, he exited the car and walked quickly in the vain hope that speed would keep his sister from noticing him.

Just as he got to the last step, her voice called out, “Excuse me, sir, can I have a moment to ask about the ongoing case? There’s a rumor—” her words cut off as Malcolm turned to look at her, his eyes begging for her to say nothing. “So the FBI is involved, do you have a moment for a comment, Agent…” she trailed off, waiting for Malcolm to speak when Powell swooped in to his rescue.

“No comment. Ongoing case so we can’t discuss it. Let’s get a move on, Bright.”

Malcolm kept his gaze firmly fixed on the doors, and did not look back at his sister. “I appreciate the help, Detective.”

As soon as the door closed behind him, he felt his phone start vibrating with a call.  _ Fuck, c’mon, this wasn’t supposed to happen! _ He got stuck in his head for a few moments before realizing that Powell was talking to him.

“Know her?” she asked voice neutral. “Seems like she knew you were FBI.”

Malcolm shrugged, “She’s probably seen me on the news with one of the cases I’ve worked in the past. I do my best to avoid the press if possible. Don’t want to chance a serial killer getting fixated on me or something.”

He hoped that the answer was enough to stall any questions from Powell as they walked up towards the Major Crimes unit. Just as they walked in, Malcolm wanted to swear as Shannon walked up to meet them. Powell’s body language closed off immediately, and he wanted to pull his hair out.

“Arroyo have anything useful?”

Malcolm glanced at Powell. He wanted to hear her thoughts before adding his own. From just the brief time he’d spent with her, he knew Powell was good. She deserved her spot in Major Crimes even if Shannon was trying to be a prick about it.

“Only thing he was positive about is that our guy’s not involved in any of the Families. He’s spoken to the others and they’re of the same opinion. He said that the last ones that were Ivanov’s men would have made their relationship worse. Used some quote about flies and honey.”

Malcolm nodded and continued before Shannon could speak, “From the brief interaction I had, I think Arroyo’s telling the truth. I was looking at the bruises on the bodies, and they remind me of something, but I need to check a couple of things.”

With a nod to both, Malcolm moved quickly towards the room that Shannon had mentioned earlier. As they stood and talked, Malcolm’s phone had buzzed continuously and that meant Ains. As soon as the door closed behind him, he unlocked the phone and called her.

“Does Mom know you’re in town?” she asked in lieu of a greeting.

“No. Please don’t tell her. I wasn’t planning on being here but well…” he trailed off.  _ Reporter, remember? She’ll try and use that. _ “This needs to be quick, I have things I need to do, Ains.”

“Can’t a little sister call her big brother ‘cause she misses him?” He could hear the pout in her voice.

“Sure, when she doesn’t run into him outside the precinct where he’s working temporarily.”

Ainsley’s exaggerated sigh was loud over the speaker. “Just one tiny thing couldn’t possibly hurt, could it?”

Malcolm closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not when I’m working on this with Shannon. The one who thought I helped Dr. Whitly.”

A sharp intake of breath was her answer before she asked shakily, “Does he know that you’re, well, you?”

“Nope and I prefer that it stay that way. Please don’t tell Mother I’m here?”

There was silence on the other end and Bright’s stomach dropped, “You won’t tell her, right?”

“Mal,” she started softly, “she...she usually watches my reports. Mom might’ve seen you already.”

It took all that Malcolm had not to start swearing.  _ First Shannon, then interesting meet with Arroyo, Ains seeing me, and now Mother possibly knowing that I’m home for the first time in six years, wonderful. _ His silence tipped her off.

“If she didn’t see you while we filmed, then I won’t say anything. But I won’t lie to her if she calls and asks me.”

He sighed roughly. “At least give me a warning text if she calls you?” Malcolm begged. “I really need her not to come down. Shannon doesn’t know, Ains, I need it to stay like that... God knows how he’ll handle having me helping out.”

“Yeah, stay safe, Mal.”

Bright disconnected the call and looked down at the contusions.  _ I should know this; I’ve seen it before. Killer knows self defense or hand-to-hand, which means the perp’s physically fit, if not muscular… Using a gun but feels personal.  _ Malcolm jotted that down and kept studying the bodies. He got lost in thought and didn’t realize time had passed until a tap on the glass and a voice spoke up behind him.

“Shannon asked me to let you know that we’re done for the day. He’s got your number in case anything happens tonight.” Powell’s voice was quiet. “You said it’d been awhile since you were here last, need any suggestions on where to stay or quick food?”

Before Malcolm could say anything, his phone went off. A glance had him gritting his teeth, “Detective, I really appreciate it, but this is a call I have to take. I’m so sorry.” He stood and slipped out of the room, thankful once again for his inability to eat and the fact he was so slender.

_ Of course, you have to call, Mother, can’t scrape by with just Ains knowing I’m here. _ “Hello?”

“Malcolm, darling, why didn’t you tell me you’d be in New York? I sent Louisa over to your loft. She’s airing it out, changing the sheets, and wiping down the restraints.”

“Mo—”

But she cut right over him, “I’m assuming that you were going to call, but I suppose with you on a case, you simply… forgot.” Her tone edged into anger, which wasn’t uncommon given that he was always the screw up somehow.

_ Fuck, fuck, fuck. You may not be The Surgeon, but you’re fucking manipulative,  _ he thought angrily. “That’s exactly what happened, Mother. How about we go to dinner?”

“Oh, you read my mind. I would  _ love  _ to.”

“Wonderful,” he responded evenly. “Where would you like for me to meet you?”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, I’m picking you up.”

Bright gritted his teeth, “Tell me where, Mother. I’m working with Owen Shannon on this and he doesn’t know who I am.”

The angry hiss through the phone was mildly appeasing to Malcolm. While he may have a distaste for the man, Jessica outright hated him.  _ Please let this be enough to keep her away. _

“Fine, but if you’re not at The Modern within the next half hour, I will come in and drag you out of that precinct by the ear, do you understand?”

It took all that he had to keep from snarling something back. “Of course, Mother,” he answered, his voice a little higher than normal. “I’ll be there, soon.” With that, he ended the call and stormed out of the building, uncaring if anyone was paying attention. He flagged the first cab possible outside the door and rambled off the address.

He pulled out his phone and started playing a useless thing, tapping helped calm him down.  _ This is why I don’t come back, you’re too much. Sorry that I found out that Martin Whitly was a serial killer.  _ Malcolm forced that line of thought down and away. After he’d made that call, he’d been alone, Jessica focused on Ainsley and unable to look at Malcolm. At least he had Mr. David. Somehow, he and the man who was charged with overseeing Martin had developed a friendship.  _ I should call and let him know… _ Malcolm cut that thought off. He wasn’t going to make things hard for Mr. David should Dr. Whitly get wind that Malcolm was in the city.

Malcolm didn’t realize that the cab had come to a stop until the driver cleared their throat. “It’s—” but Malcolm was already handing a wad of cash through the little window.

“Thanks!” He rushed in through the door and collided with a solid body. The stranger smelled of spices and earth and had a firm grip on his upper arms.

“So sorry about that, I wasn’t—” Bright’s words stopped as he realized who exactly he ran into. Dark eyes bored into his, darted over his face, and the hands still hadn’t released him. “Mr. Arroyo, again. I must apologize. I’m running a little late.”

As he tried to extricate himself from the man’s grip, his Mother’s voice came from behind him. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than for the Earth to open and swallow him whole.

“Mal—” her voice trailed off, then went flirty. “Gil, it’s been such a long time! I’m so sorry about my son, he gets tunnel vision sometimes.”

All the fascinating curses he’d picked up from his instructors at Quantico were running a mile a minute through his head.  _ Fucking hell, of course she knew Arroyo. And she probably has no idea what he is. Fuck. _

“Mother, wonderful to see you. Let’s get dinner. Mr. Arroyo, again, I am sorry for running into you.” Malcolm tried to move away from the hands that still held him.  _ Why did no one give this to Colette? Would have been so much easier. _

“Jessica!” the man’s voice was warm. “You’re too young to have a grown-up son!”

_ Great, flirting with Mother. Can I throw up yet? _

Jessica laid a hand on her chest in false modesty, “You flatterer,” she accused. “We were just about to sit down for dinner. Why don’t you join us?”

_ Still not letting go, _ Bright thought angrily.  _ Fucking hell, why can’t I get a call for a murder?  _ Then he slapped himself mentally.  _ She’s your mother and you know you don’t want more people to die, regardless if they’re involved in the mob. _ Small mercies that he kept his face blank but he’d had enough, “Mr. Arroyo, would you mind letting go of me, please?”

Something dark flashed in the older man’s eyes and warning bells went off in Malcolm’s brain. With his profession, he’d trusted his instincts and ability to read people. Right now, the body language and look Arroyo had made the hairs on his neck stand at attention and his limbs were suddenly cold.  _ Blood rushing to internal organs for safety. De-escalate and no aggressive moves. _

“Thanks for stopping me before I fell on my face, Mr. Arroyo, but I’m good,” Malcolm kept his voice soft. For a split second, the hands on his biceps tightened, then let go almost reluctantly.

_ Not safe, don’t be alone with him, _ Malcolm’s mind was yelling. “I’m sure that Mr. Arroyo was leaving as I accidentally ran into him. We shouldn’t keep him longer, Mother.”

Jessica opened her mouth to speak, but Arroyo beat her to it, “Actually, my last meeting for the night was just rescheduled.” He looked between Malcolm and Jessica. “I’d love to join you if the offer is still on the table.”

Jessica’s smile widened. “Of course! Spontaneous dinner plans are the best.”

Malcolm wanted to be sick. Arroyo was pinging all of his internal alarms, and his Mother was obviously fawning over the man.  _ Please don’t be aware that he’s the head of a very large crime Family. _

Arroyo smiled at her, then glanced at Malcolm, “Only if your son has no objections to me joining?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Malcolm saw murder in her eyes if he raised any issue, so instead he shrugged, “The more the merrier.”

The hostess, who Malcolm hadn’t realized was standing there, quickly hid a look of irritation and pasted a smile on her face. “Table for three, then, Ms. Whtily?” At the wave of Jessica’s hand, she led them to a nice table near a window. “Have a wonderful dinner.” Her voice was almost robotic, and Malcolm empathized with that.

“So, I have to confess, Jessica; your son and I met earlier this afternoon. Such a small world.” Arroyo’s words were smooth, and Bright resisted the urge to pull at his hair.

“Yes, we did. For the case that the NYPD called me in on,” he spoke quickly, trying to get ahead of whatever game was going on. “I really shouldn’t stay; this could be seen as a conflict of interest. I wouldn’t want to waste any more time on the case or have more people get killed.”

Once again, she waved her hand, this time in Malcolm’s direction. “I’m sure whoever’s lead on the case will be just fine, after all just say you and your mother ran into a friend.” Her blasé attitude grated on Malcolm.

In that moment, Malcolm decided his course of action for the duration of dinner.  _ You suck up to the mob boss, I’ll nod at the right increments, wait to get a call, and make sure I don’t see you again before I leave. _

Plan in place, he gave all the signs of active listening but instead kept his mind on the case.  _ Those bruises, almost positive that they’re something a military vet or spec-ops would use to take down…  _ while he was working through the case, Bright hoped that his phone would ring and he could make excuses and leave Arroyo and Jessica to fawn over each other.

“Malcolm,” Jessica’s voice brought him out of where he’d been, “Gil was just telling me that you were introduced as ‘Bright’?”

_ Jesus fucking Christ, of course this is when it comes out. _ “Mother, I’m working with Owen Shannon.” He wasn’t about to remind her that he’d legally changed his last name six years ago. That fight had been one for the books.  _ You can keep  _ his  _ last name, but I for one will not. _

At that name, Jessica’s hackles went up, “Has he said anything to you? I’ll make his life hell.”

“No, Mother, why would he when my last name is Bright? He has no idea who I am. I intend to keep it that way.” Often, he’d let her have her way but not this time, she wasn’t going to fuck up a case because sometimes she wanted to play Mother of the Year.

She narrowed her eyes at him, but Malcolm didn’t care. Jessica turned back to Gil, but when he glanced at them, Arroyo’s eyes were trained on him.  _ I’ve seen that look before,  _ he mused, slightly taken aback.  _ Lovely. It’s like speaking with Martin all over again. _

“Gil, when did you happen to meet Malcolm? He’s only been back in town since this morning, I believe.”

“Mother, let’s not talk business, after all my work distresses you so.” Bright had to fight the eye roll. “It was a pleasure to see you again Mr. Arroyo. I hate taking up your time, obviously you have a lot to talk about. Let me just—” but before he could continue, Jessica shot another glare at him.

“I haven’t seen you in six years; eat dinner with me. You’re never in one place for long. They work you too hard.”

Malcolm considered beating his head against the wall or flat out telling her that they spoke because the man sitting to her right was the head of a crime family, but he kept his mouth shut and just glanced out the window.

“Malcolm’s right, Jessica. We shouldn’t talk business over dinner. If it’s been that long since you’ve had an evening together, I’m sure there are better topics.” Arroyo’s smooth words had Jessica eating out of his hand.

_ It’s as if you forgot what being married to a serial killer was like, _ Bright mused as he eyed the bottle of wine in the center of the table.  _ God forbid Shannon call with something urgent. _

Again, he let himself drift out of the conversation. Much like the socialite parties that they’d attended before Martin’s arrest, Malcolm played the part of the loving son. There were times that he wished to just be a simple middle class man who wasn’t related to a serial killer.  _ This can’t last forever, _ he thought,  _ how do you not see that he’s listening to you but his focus is on me?! _

He brought the glass of wine to his mouth and took a sip.If nothing else, he’d get drunk, go to his loft and sleep a few hours before going in and working more.

“Malcolm.”The soft timbre of Arroyo’s voice once again pulled him out of his mental musings. “You must have been to some amazing places when traveling for work. What was your favorite?”

He blinked, then blinked again,  _ are you serious?  _ “Well, I mean the best part is coming home to D. C., since it means a bad person’s off the street and that he or she can’t hurt anymore people.” He was well aware that he hadn’t answered the question, but he was going to be bland, boring.  _ Anything that would remove Arroyo’s obvious interest, _ Malcolm promised himself.

“Malcolm, there must have been one place you liked,” Jessica cajoled.

“Painted desert,” he said the first landmark that came to mind. “That was beautiful to look at. But remember Mother, I’m usually there to stop killers so enjoyment isn’t on my mind.”

He swirled his glass and looked up; Arroyo was still staring at him. It wasn’t hard to guess that the man was logging all that he learned about Bright away. It made him uneasy. There could be any number of reasons for his prying but none of them were good.

Just as Arroyo went to ask another question, a server came over and took orders. Malcolm was last and simple. “Just the chicken soup, please?”

Before he could resume his current plan, the older man kept eye contact and asked, “Are you sure there isn’t anything more you’d like?”  _ Concern _ , his mind said, but Malcolm shook his head. At the voice in his mind or at Arroyo’s question, he wasn’t sure.

Somehow in all the insanity that the last hour had been, Martin hadn’t been brought up and Malcolm wasn’t about to be that person, either. “I’m not very hungry, Mr. Arroyo.”

The man looked Malcolm up and down, eyes taking in everything they could. He expected Arroyo to say something about his weight or general look of exhaustion, but instead he got, “Call me Gil, please.”

Malcolm was saved from answering when his phone vibrated. He didn’t bother to look at the caller ID. Instead, he stood and made a quick excuse. “Sorry, this is work. I have to take it.” He made a beeline for the door, intent on getting out before Arroyo or Mother could demand that he stay.

“This is Bright,” he said quickly.

“It’s Powell, we had another body drop. I’ll send a unit to you. Where are you?”

Malcolm sent thanks to whatever deity was listening, “I’m over by The Modern, I was wandering around the city.”

She made a soft sound. “I should be able to get someone over to you pretty quick. The body’s not too far.”

**

As Bright all but ran from the table, Gil watched him move.  _ Lithe and agile, will make for interesting positions. _

“I’m sorry about him, his manners are usually better.”

He glanced at Jessica, she wasn’t a favorite but now that Gil knew that his blue eyed boy belonged to the Whitlys, he was more intrigued by the conundrum of the younger man.

“I understand, Jessica, I’m sure that the case they brought him out here for was important.”

_ Keep her talking, _ Gil mused,  _ there’s more she can tell me than any report ever would. _ “I didn’t get a chance to ask, but what does he do in the FBI?”

“He’s a profiler in the Behavioral unit,” Jessica sounded put upon, “I tried to get him to be a lawyer or something that wouldn’t keep him fixated on Martin, but it was no use.”

So many thoughts pushed at Gil’s mind that he couldn’t keep them all together. “I’m sure he’d be a wonderful lawyer,” he agreed, but privately was happy that Malcolm was a profiler.  _ Would be very useful once we’re married to have him vet my people. _

“Instead, Malcolm decided that he needed to right the wrongs of the world by ridding it of all the Martin Whitlys possible.” She stopped, then looked at Gil. “Don’t take any of this the wrong way. I’m glad that we have fewer serial killers, but I tire of his inability to move beyond what happened.”

In that moment, Jessica disgusted Gil.  _ He deserves more than you, better than you. _ “I have no doubt that he does this so that some other 10-year-old child doesn’t have to be the one to call the police on their parent.” It’s a slight dig, but Gil gentled it with a smile “After all, saving people is one of the noblest professions out there.”

As Jessica was about to speak, Gil’s phone rang. He thought about letting it go to voicemail, since interrogating her would be easy and he could learn more about his pretty boy with minimal effort. He glanced down and saw JTs name on the screen and knew that he couldn’t ignore it.

“Please, excuse me, this is work calling. It usually means that something’s about to blow up.”

She laughed at his joke and Gil kept the smile on his face until he was outside. “What happened?”

JT sighed, “Guy got two of ours. Perp called the cops before he left. Didn’t get out of the building quick enough, now the cops are here and so’s Bright.”

_ One, this could be two,  _ Gil thought to himself; “Keep Bright occupied and there as long as you can. I’m on my way.”

JT made an affirmative sound, but Gil was already texting his driver who was out of the parking garage and in front of him in record time. “Office, as fast as you can.”  _ Twice in one night, Jackie you must be serious on this one if— _ Gil stopped that thought, he wouldn’t rush this, couldn’t. He had to draw Malcolm to him. If anything, the younger man already wanted to keep distance between them.

The drive went quickly, a surprise since Gil expected time to slow until he saw Malcolm again. The kid needed someone to look after him. He obviously didn’t rest, eat, or have support, if Jessica was anything to go by.  _ Not to worry, once he’s mine, I’ll always keep him safe. _

Before his driver could come to a complete stop, Gil was out of the car and moving towards the crime scene tape. He casually scanned, looking for Malcolm. He had to stop a smile from forming as he watched the man move animatedly, then gesture up at the building where there was a camera.  _ One of the few working ones, _ he mused.  _ Such a smart boy. _

Powell was with him, but Gil wasn’t sure if Shannon was or not. He moved towards one of the officers manning the line. “Can you tell me what’s going on? This is my building.”

The man paled slightly, but held up a hand. “One minute, let me see what the Detectives say, sir.”

For a few minutes, Gil waited patiently. He would wait for Malcolm as long as it took. Then the man was back, this time with Powell and Malcolm in tow. Powell was unreadable but Malcolm looked like he’d swallowed a lemon.  _ Bratty boy,  _ Gil mused,  _ I can work with that. _

“I got a call from my head of security that the police were outside and that he saw the murder, but wasn’t able to get outside quickly enough to prevent it.”

Powell nodded but Malcolm looked skeptical, not that Gil could blame him. “JT called me just after you left so I wanted to come and see if there was any way that I could help.”

_ That’s right, Malcolm, I want all your attention,  _ he thought, as Malcom’s glare intensified. “Then since there’s a camera right above where the kills happened, you wouldn’t mind if we took a look, would you?”

Powell knew something was off but just kept studying the pair. “You don’t have to, Mr. Arroyo, but it would be much appreciated.”

Any other time, Gil would have flat out refused, but instead, he called JT. “Get a copy of the tape ready. Detective Powell and Agent Bright will be taking it with them for their investigation.” Anything to appear good natured to his intended.

Gil slipped under the tape and walked towards the entrance with the other two close behind. “I’m happy to help, Malcolm. I hope this helps find your killer.”

“Thanks.” Bright’s voice was flat but Gil enjoyed hearing him speak, nonetheless.

JT met the trio at the do with a copy in hand but something seemed off, which Bright caught. “What’s wrong?”

“I watched the clip, and I think I know this guy. C’mon, let me show you.”

Gil moved quickly and leaned into JT. “Everything clear?”

A minuscule nod and Gil gestured for them to follow. “You think you know him, JT?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that it’s a guy I served with. Spec-ops. I didn’t know that he was back stateside.”

As they entered the security office, JT rewound the tape and zoomed in, “I wouldn’t have known had he not glanced up. We were tight once.”

Gil rested a hand on JT’s shoulder, “You couldn’t have known. This isn’t on you.” He felt Bright’s eyes on him.  _ See. I’m compassionate, I care about my people. Like I do you. _

Bright said nothing, but something in his eyes told Gil that this wasn’t what he’d been expecting. “Is there a chance that he’s been to any of the local VAs or anyone from your unit that would know if there’s been anything major in his life recently?” The question was soft. For all the teeth that Bright had shown at dinner, he was gentle with JT.

Powell spoke up, “What’s his name? We can see about reaching out to him.”

“You gonna kill him or actually take him in alive?” JT spat the words but neither reacted.

“We just want to bring him in safely, JT,” Malcolm said softly. “He needs help and we’ll get that for him.”

Gil watched as respect rose in JT for this FBI agent that showed honest compassion. “His name’s Jackson Denton,” he answered quietly.

“Thank you. We’ll take this with us.” Malcolm kept his voice soothing. Gil was already fascinated by this man, but how he treated JT and showed compassion cemented the knowledge that Jackie had made the right choice for him.

He glanced at the time on his phone, 8:53 PM. September 27, 2016.  _ One more time Malcolm, then you’ll be mine. _

**

What Gil hadn’t expected was for the case to wrap so quickly and for his Blue Eyes not to be called back for the trial. Days passed to weeks, into months then suddenly three years had passed. Each minute made Gil yearn for that third meet. Jackie wanted to make sure that he was ready, worthy of Malcolm. Some days were harder than others but three years to the day Gil, received a text:

He’s back. With younger sister in Central Park. Move quickly. Shannon’s there.

Gil’s heart swelled,  _ you can’t run forever city boy, just a little longer. _ Over the time that Malcolm had managed to leave the city, he kept tabs on the profiler. Hours after Malcolm was forced to leave the FBI, Gil planned to arrange an… accident for that sheriff.  _ You don’t hurt my boy and make him lose his job. _

When the car managed to get Gil to the park, he saw Shannon approach Malcolm.  _ Hmm, what could you be asking my boy about?  _ He slowed his steps and slid out a bionic hearing aid and tuned it. Gil stopped just behind the cover of a large tree.

“You know I’m not with the FBI anymore, right?” Malcolm asked.

Shannon sighed, “Don’t care, I’m sure you studied The Surgeon's work while you were there. Please come to the latest scene and tell me what you see. It’s obviously not Whitly but someone’s using his methods.”

Malcolm was still for a moment and just as he started to follow Shannon, Gil’s rage built. _ No Shannon, not today. He’s mine. _ Gil strode up to Malcolm and smiled, “City boy! Didn’t know you were back. We should have dinner!”

Shannon stared at Gil then raised an eyebrow at Malcolm who just shrugged. “I’ll get on this and get a profile over to you. I’ll drop by the scene as soon as I can.”

With a dirty glare, Shannon left and Malcolm turned to face Gil. “Mr. Arroyo, nice to see you. How are you?”

Gil moved to try and touch Malcolm but the younger man deftly avoided his hand. “I think I told you to call me Gil. I’m well, didn’t realize you had moved back to the city.”

Unease crossed Malcolm’s face but was gone in a blink. “I don’t know that I plan to stay long. Just getting my feet under me and then I’ll probably move along. It’s nice to see you, but I need to go finish something up.”

_ Such a bad liar, but that’s ok, I don’t want you to lie to me, Malcolm. If you do, a spanking would be the best form of punishment, but you’ll like it, I know you will. Thank you, Jackie, I was patient and I’m glad for it. _

Gil kept an eye on the news, he knew that Malcolm was helping with the new string of murders.  _ Why wouldn’t he be? Not that Shannon knows he’s got Dr. Whitly’s son looking into this for him... _ As he watched the youngest Whitly report on what was happening, JT walked in.

“Is he back yet?” Ever since Malcolm had been able to bring Jackson in, JT kept an eye out for anything that could potentially bring Malcolm back to New York.

“Yes, I saw him today. Get our best people following him. There are some things I need to wrap up and people to meet.”

Gil hadn’t been able to bug Malcolm’s apartment in D. C. but he had people on him. He pulled out the file that had been collected in three years. He sifted through the photos until he found his favorite. Malcolm was shirtless, running along a well-used path in the middle of summer. Sweat dripped along his brow and down his chest, the usually styled hair loose and falling into his face.

Just looking at his beautiful boy, Gil felt his cock harden. Three years was a long time to build fantasies in his mind. Malcolm on his knees, mouth wrapped around his cock. Malcolm naked, riding cock like he was born to while Gil was fully clothed. Rough sex, tender loving. Gil wanted to own that body and he was closer than he had been three years ago.

He popped the button on his slacks and pulled his cock out. Gil ran his hand up and down slowly while his mind wandered to one of his favorite fantasies. 

Malcolm was relaxed as he lay in their bed, eyes closed. His pretty cock laid half hard against his thigh. Gil slid into bed next to him and ran his thumb along the younger man’s lips. A breathy sigh and Malcolm opened his mouth and ran his tongue over the pad of Gil’s thumb.

“Good boy,” Gil cooed, “look at me, baby. Don’t take your eyes off of me.” The amazing blue eyes fluttered open and locked onto Gil.

Malcolm's bedroom eyes made his cock harder. Gil moved his hand from Malcolm's mouth and tangled his fingers in thick brown locks. “So good, baby. I’ve waited for you for three years but it’s been longer for you, I’m sure.”

Malcolm said nothing, just tilted his head back and offered Gil the length of his pale throat, an act of submission that had Gil roll over onto his pretty boy. “Daddy wants to ruin you, sweetheart. Will you let me?”

There was a soft whine and Malcolm arched his back and put his hands over his head. He gripped the ornate metal bars and in the dim light of their room, the ring on Mal’s left hand sparkled softly. It spurred Gil on, he took Malcolm’s mouth and swallowed the soft sounds that escaped his lips, kissed until their air ran out. “Daddy, please? I’ve been good. I waited for you.” 

Gil growled and yanked his husband’s head back. “Don’t worry baby, not for much longer.”

He lubed up his fingers and carefully worked Malcolm open. The soft moans sped Gil’s work. A second finger was worked in and Gil focused on finding Malcolm’s prostate. He knew he had when the soft moans moved up in pitch and Malcolm thrust back on his fingers. 

“So good, Blue Eyes, so good for me. Can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”

His hand that was tangled in the dark hair tightened and pulled harder and Malcolm hips arched looking for friction to rut against but his hands stayed clenched around the bars. Gil nibbled at his neck, soft praise for not touching his weeping cock.

“Your cock belongs to me, baby, only I can touch you like this,” he kept working his fingers gently but picked up the pace slightly, eyes intent on Malcolm’s face. “Can you take one more for me, baby? One more finger and then Daddy will give you his cock.” He chuckled softly when Malcolm arched and tried to push back on his fingers. “Patience, sweetheart, you take what Daddy gives, understand?”

A soft grunt left Malcolm but he nodded. Slowly Gil eased a third finger in and pressed harder against Malcolm. “So good, baby. You’re so hot and tight around my fingers.” Gil reached and grabbed more lube, determined to make sure that Malcolm was ready for his cock. Without warning, Gil finger fucked his boy. The sounds Malcolm made were beautiful. 

He slid his fingers out one at a time and watched as Malcolm’s hole fluttered and clenched around air. He wrapped his fingers loosely around his cock, slicking up with the lube from his fingers. Gil watched Malcolm rock his hips silently pleading to be filled, but Gil held back.  _ Want those words, baby. _

“Gil, Daddy, please, need you. Need your cock.” 

“Almost, baby. Ask politely like I know you can.” Malcolm was a vision. The pale skin flushed with desire, lips kiss swollen and red. Gil moved forward on his knees, pulling Malcolm’s legs over his arms. Splayed like he was, Malcolm wouldn’t be able to move much. Gil rubbed the blunt head of his cock against Malcolm’s ass, teasing him.

“Please ruin me?” His words wavered, “Please… Husband?” 

Gil slammed home, “That’s right baby, ask your husband, your Daddy to ruin you.” 

With that Gil stopped speaking, instead he bent Malcolm almost in half and fucked into the slender man beneath him. He swore softly as Malcolm tightened around him. “God Blue Eyes, so perfect; made for my cock.”

Malcolm’s words were slurred. Each thrust hit his prostate straight on. It was almost pleasure pain. Gil rutted into his boy’s soft body, each thrust forced a small whine out of Malcolm. “Not gonna last long, sweetheart. Daddy’s gonna come inside you, baby.”

Malcolm arched and tried to move his hand towards his cock, but Gil moved quickly. Gathering both slender wrists in his hand, Gil landed a hard swat on Malcolm’s thigh. “No, Malcolm, no. You come on Daddy’s cock or not at all.” 

The bed creaked under the force of Gil’s thrusts and Malcolm arched again. His beautiful throat on display, so beautiful that Gil couldn’t resist. One. Two. Three thrusts and Gil spilled into his beautiful boy. He let go of Malcolm’s wrists and yanked his head back. He latched his mouth to Malcolm’s throat and sucked hard. Gil felt Malcolm tighten around his cock and felt warm cum hit his chest as Malcolm groaned loudly. 

“That’s it, baby, that’s it. You did so good for me. Felt so good on my cock. Such a good little slut for Daddy.”

“Love you, Gil.”

With those words, Gil came hard. He pulled a cloth from his desk and cleaned up his hand and cock.  _ That’s nice, but I can’t wait to have you in my bed for real, Malcolm. You’ll be so good, I know it. I can’t wait to hear you say those words, Blue Eyes. _

Several minutes later, Gil texted JT to bring the car around.  _ Time to pay a visit to the future father-in-law, _ there were some nerves but he was sure Dr. Whitly would accept the proposal. If not, he was sure they could work something out. From his research into both the personal and professional life of The Surgeon, he’d gleaned that the man seemed to feel genuine affection for his son. Hence, Gil felt the need to ask for Dr. Whilty’s permission to marry Malcolm. Jessica already liked him so there wouldn’t be an issue there, most likely.

About half way across town, he got a text informing him that Martin already had a visitor.  _ Interesting _ .

“Take the longer route, Daniels. It seems my fiance is visiting with his father. I wouldn’t want to interrupt quality time.”

The man nodded and Gil settled back.  _ What got you to see him again after ten years, baby? What did you find? How did you explain it to Shannon? _ He pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. Gil could contemplate those questions when he wasn’t about to meet The Surgeon for the first time. He reached into an inner pocket, pulled out a burner phone, and texted one of the private investigators on his payroll. 

Get the cameras in place. He won’t be home for awhile. 

That sent, Gil shut the phone off.  _ It’s the only way I can protect you, make sure that you’re safe,  _ he thought,  _ you try to isolate yourself Malcolm, but that’s how you get hurt. _ As much as Gil wished, he knew that Malcolm couldn’t be a house husband but they’d cross that bridge when they came to it. As the car pulled to a stop Gil focused on the outer door waiting for Malcolm. Any little glimpse of his Blue Eyes made Gil’s day. 

Gil sat for several minutes before Malcolm made his way out.  _ I might not have your gift for reading people, baby, but I can see that you’re tense. What did he say?  _ The desire to roll down the window and check on the younger man rode Gil hard, but he stopped himself. After all, it would make things harder if Malcolm knew that he was here to speak with Dr. Whitly. He waited patiently until Malcolm flagged a cab and got in. Gil kept watch on the car until it was beyond his line of sight.

As he got out of the car, Gil buttoned his suit jacket and ran his hands over it to straighten any wrinkles.  _ First impressions matter. I can’t have Dr. Whitly think I’m a slob and a bad fit for Malcolm.  _ Claremont was just as uninviting inside as it was outside. There’d been strings that Gil had to pull since there was a short list for who was allowed to visit Dr. Whitly.  _ Hopefully he’s in good spirits since Malcolm came to see him.  _ Gil put a hand in his coat pocket, the slip of paper was still there with a small peace offering.

Getting through security annoyed Gil, dragging on longer than it would when he visited anyone else. He had unpleasant company on his walk up to Dr. Whitly’s cell. The man’s voice was high and nasally as he droned about the rules. Don’t touch, soft tip pen, don’t cross the line, no paper clips. Gil had to fight the urge to roll his eyes, very aware of what The Surgeon was capable of, given the infamy of the man.

Gil nodded politely and thanked him when the man left and did his best not to roll his eyes at the guard outside who spoke quickly as Gil moved toward the door. “I’ll need a couple minutes to get him—” 

Gil raised his hand, “Dr. Whitly’s fine as is, I think we’ll be fine without anything beyond the tether, Mr…” he trailed off.

“David, sir. I do recommend letting me bind his hands, he’s just had a visitor and he’s a little on edge since they left. I say this for your safety,” Mr. David spoke with authority and Gil appreciated the man’s candidness about Dr. Whitly’s state. He held out his hand to the taller man, “Gabriel Montoya, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“I don’t intend to get close to the line, Mr. David. And this should be a relatively quick visit anyway.” H kept his voice even to try and placate the man. “I also know how to defend myself.” 

Mr. David looked at Gil, judging what he saw before reluctantly nodding and unlocking the door. “I see a hint of agitation in Martin, I’ll remove you and restrain him completely, whether you want it or not.”

Gil nodded accepting the man’s terms. A small wave of nervousness rushed Gil but he pushed it out of mind.  _ The worst that can happen is that he says no but I still go ahead with marrying Malcolm.  _ Gil rolled his shoulders back as he waited for David to open the door. Dr. Whitly’s back was to the cell door but turned slightly at the sound of the door opening but stayed where he was. 

“Mr. David, I’m finished with my consults for the day. No need for phone time.” 

“Martin, you have another visitor,” David’s voice was even but Gil picked up the warning.

Dr. Whitly’s head cocked slightly before he turned around fully. A brief look of confusion and then his expression shuttered as he took Gil in. He stayed quiet until David shut the door behind him. 

“Dr. Whitly, a pleasure to meet you.”

Martin tilted his head to the side and exhaled softly, “Nice to meet you too, Mr…” he trailed off, eyebrow slightly raised. “You have me at a disadvantage.”

A quick glance behind and David wasn’t near the window so Gil stepped forward and held out a hand, “Gil Arroyo.” 

Martin blinked and studied Gil, aware that he was being sized up by another predator. Slowly he reached out and took Gil’s hand. It was a brief handshake and then Gil stepped back. 

“As fascinating as it is to get people who aren’t on my list to visit, I’m not sure what I can help you with, Mr. Arroyo. You seem to be in good physical health.” Once again, Dr. Whitly looked him over. “Unless there’s something that you want from me?”

Gil ran a hand over his beard, “I came out of respect to you. I wanted to ask for your permission to marry your son, Malcolm.”

Martin wheezed out a laugh as though that was the best joke he’d heard. “Why are you asking me? I can’t be there.”

“I’ve learned about you. I believe that you do care about Malcolm. I’ve fallen in love with him after a brief meeting and following his career. I wanted to have your blessing.” Gil waited, slightly anxious for the other man’s answer.

Emotions flashed across Dr. Whitly’s face rapidly before he settled. “What makes you think that you’re good enough for  _ my _ boy?” 

Gil smiled slightly. “He’ll always be your boy, I’m just asking to be his husband. Someone to look after him, make sure he’s healthy. I know that he was here shortly before I came in, I’m sure you noticed how thin he is. He’s lost weight since I’ve seen him.”

A smile pulled at Martin’s lips, “Are there… qualifications that you have, Mr. Arroyo?” 

Gil’s smile turned dark, “I run a large business and handle issues with some heavy handedness when it’s called for. Like the officer who ruined Malcolm’s career. I had my own plan to get him home but that fucker hurt Malcolm, and I won’t stand for that.”

Dr. Whitly’s lips pulled into a terrifying smile. “You seem to be someone who can look out for him. But does  _ he _ know that he’s engaged? If I know anything about my son, it’s that he doesn’t take well to being told what to do. What’s your plan?”

Gil rolled his shoulders back, “I have a friendship with your wife, Jessica. I’ve been able to use her to learn more about Malcolm. I keep my people on him so he’s safe. I’m going to lure him in slowly. He likes puzzles, challenges. Before he realizes it, he’ll have said yes and we’ll be married.”

“Would you do this without my blessing?” 

Gil let out a soft laugh. “I would, but I’d still work to get your blessing. I’m not angling to take your place in his life. Sons need their fathers,” Gil trailed off. “Ones who would do anything for them even if they don’t know what’s in their best interests.” He slid a hand into his jacket pocket, “I wanted to give you something. Something that would make contacting Malcolm a little easier.”

Gil moved closer to the red line on the floor, eyes never leaving Dr. Whitly’s. “I’ve been following him for three years. He doesn’t sleep due to night terrors, he doesn’t eat much because anything can upset his stomach. As his husband, I’d make him take it easy.” 

Slowly Gil pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket. “This was something that I wanted to give you. You’ll be able to call him. I can’t guarantee that he’ll answer, but you can leave him messages.”

It seemed as though everything stopped, The Surgeon reached for the paper. His fingers trembled as they touched the edge of the paper but he stopped and stared at Gil, “This doesn’t have strings does it, even if I say no?”

“No, Mal needs you. Jessica doesn’t care for him, just for Ainsley. He needs all the people he can get in his corner.”

Time sped up and Dr. Whitly snatched the slip of paper away and held it reverently, tracing over the numbers. “You’re an interesting man, Mr. Arroyo. What industry are you in?”

Gil smirked, “It’s a Family business, Doctor. Family is the most important.”

The bound man smirked, “It truly is. Please, call me Martin.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey lovelies! So Covid's been killer on my writing and mental health, so I'm sorry that this is so delayed in being published. I do want to put out here that there's questionable BDSM practices seeing as Mal starts with one Dom and both intend to not do aftercare --- Which please always utilize aftercare post session, even if it's mild ---- and aftercare is administered by another person without Mal's consent or knowledge. The three asterisks towards the end of the chapter are a sex scene between an OC and Mal. There's exhibitionism there too. If that's not your thing, skip down to the next three and that's aftercare.  
> I'll do my best to update sooner but no promises and I'm sorry about that guys.  
> ALSO!! If you're 18+ please come joing our PSon trash!
> 
> https://discord.gg/Dm2mTY9

Carter Berkhead’s adamance and determination even in the face of law enforcement convinced Bright that nothing was going to stop the man from killing his wife. _Not unless there’s a bigger betrayal to draw his focus from Powell and Blair._ Malcolm was sick to his stomach; less than a few days in New York and here was his darkest secret coming out to save Detective Powell from Berkhead. He held the syringe to the basilic vein in his forearm, “Shooting her doesn't cut it, you need to finish The Quartet.”

“You don’t deserve it,” he snarled.

Malcolm snorted softly but stared Berkhead down. “That’s the thing Carter, I do. I do deserve The Surgeon’s pain… because I’m his son.” Malcolm had to pause, he hadn’t used his birth surname in a long time. “My name is Malcolm Whitly.” Acknowledging that name made him ill, he hadn’t called himself that name in a very long time.

His eyes slid from Carter’s to Powell’s and he saw exactly what he had been expecting revulsion, fear, and pity. He swallowed roughly. “See, I always thought I was afraid of my Father and everything he taught me, but really, I was afraid of me.” He stopped and took a breath; it was so hard to admit to something he’d run from. “So I betrayed him, and hunted down people like him.”

Malcolm took a steadying breath. “So now’s your chance, Carter. Now’s your chance to kill me. His prodigal son.” The change in the man was immediate and somewhere Malcolm could dimly hear Powell trying to stop him. “I’m willing to let go,” he murmured. _Finally, I can make up for not calling the police on The Surgeon sooner. His line ends with me._ More snippets of thought slammed through his mind, but he kept eye contact as the larger man moved towards him. 

He could feel the strange parody of a smile that was on his face. _So close, so close, I want it, my fault. Dr. Whitly, if you only knew that I was going to die like those victims._ So focused on the hand mere inches from the plunger, Malcolm missed the door slamming open but jerked back at the loud gunshots in the room. His knees slammed into the ground as though the strings had been cut. Then Powell was in front of him trying to make him talk. 

He smiled slightly. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t have let him do it.” 

Disbelief twisted her face but she stopped trying to ask when he stood. “Lieutenant,” he looked at Shannon. “If he survives, let me know. I’ll email a report to you, if you have any questions about my statement I’ll email back.” 

“Detective,” he nodded at Powell, “it was good to work with you again.”

Just as Malcolm was walking out of the building, a voice called out behind him, “City boy!” 

He growled quietly, “Mr. Arroyo,” he said politely as he turned to the older man. “Surprised to see you. How’s your evening?” Malcolm wanted to back away from the other man but what he’d seen in Arroyo’s body language and profiled, showing weakness would make the other feel like he had an edge on Malcolm. 

Dark eyes flashed and the man grinned, “It’s better now that I was able to see you.” 

Malcolm did all that he could to keep from rolling his eyes. “I wish my night was going as well as yours. If you’re about to ask, I need some sleep.” Bright tried to move away, but Arroyo grabbed his wrist, “Please, Mr. Arroyo, let me go.”

The grip didn’t let up but he did gentle his hold. “I told you to call me Gil, Malcolm,” he chided gently, “I know about the murders and that it’s a copycat. Are you okay? I’m sure that this wasn’t easy.”

Malcolm kept himself calm even when he wanted to snap, “Gil,” Malcolm made sure that his voice was even. “I would like you to let go of me. I need to get home.” 

The older man refused to let go of Malcolm, a thumb brushed over Malcolm’s wrist. “City boy, I just want to make sure that you’re okay.”

Malcolm was able to tug his hand out from Arroyo’s hold and moved away. The cool air filled his lungs as he strode away from the party. Before he could get too far, he felt someone walking up behind him. _Jesus, do you know how to read body language?!_ He lengthened his strides, almost running, but the taller man easily kept up. Bright tried to keep his calm but it was gone.

“What?” Malcolm snapped unable to keep a mask up or the societal manners he’d been raised with. “What do you want?” 

Arroyo’s eyes softened, “Malcolm, breathe, please.” He moved quickly and got his hand wrapped around the nape of Malcolm’s neck. “Just breathe. It’s hard, but I need you to breathe.”

Malcolm wanted to hit the man as hard as possible but the panic closed his throat and made his arms feel heavy. “Let go.” 

The hand tightened instead and his thumb tapped against Bright’s neck. “Relax, Malcolm. Just relax.” 

“Arroyo, let me go.” Bright started jerking against the older man’s hold. “Get off me.”

“You’re having a panic attack, Malcolm. You have to breathe. You don’t want to pass out.” The man’s voice was even and he found his breathing slowing with the syllables. 

Malcolm wanted to yell but he kept his composure. Once his heart and breathing slowed he spoke again, “Mr. Arroyo, would you let go of me, please? I’m fine and I just need to call for an Uber.”

Arroyo didn’t release his hold on Malcolm for a minute taking in his words. Whatever he was looking for, he must have seen it in Malcolm’s eyes because his hand was off Malcolm’s wrist. 

“Why not catch a ride with your Mother? I saw her inside, I think she may have been talking to one of my associates,” he said. 

Malcolm raised an eyebrow, “She doesn’t know I’m here and I’d prefer to keep it that way.” 

A slight head tilt and Arroyo spoke again, “Well I am leaving the party, I’m happy to give you a lift to your house.” 

The hair on Malcolm’s neck stood up and every instinct was urging caution. He chewed his words before speaking. It wouldn’t do to upset an alleged Organized Crime head and potentially have a fall out that would affect Ains and his Mother. “I appreciate the offer, Mr. Arroyo, but I’m not good company at the moment.” Malcolm wanted to end there but until he knew how long he would be in New York, he’d do his best to not antagonize this man. “But maybe we could meet again at a later date.” 

Something flared in those dark eyes before it was banked. “That would be great! Let me get your number and I can call you tomorrow so we can get lunch.” 

It was phrased politely, but Malcolm knew that it was anything but a request. As much as he wanted to fall back on old tricks and not actually give out his number, self preservation was kicking in. _Do it, get it done, he’ll leave me alone. Be out of New York before we can run into each other again,_ he told himself as he rattled his number off. Arroyo’s fingers moved quickly along the phone.

Malcolm made to leave but a hand on his elbow stopped him, “Wait,” he said softly, “Let me call you so that you have my number as well.” 

Malcolm immediately saw that for what it was. This was a check to make sure that Malcolm hadn’t given out a fake number. As his phone started to vibrate in his hand, Malcolm held it up to show Arroyo that his phone was ringing and he hadn’t given out a fake. A bright smile crossed his face and the man let go of his arm. 

“Thanks, have a good night.” Malcolm moved again before he could be stopped. His fingers tapping quickly across the screen to hail a ride. _Please don’t follow me here, not now._ Malcolm’s defenses were down and lack of sleep was finally catching up to him. _Elephant in the room, I just stopped the Quartet from being completed._ The urge to swear violently welled up but Malcolm forced it down.

 _Do that when I get home. Have to go see Dr. Whitly again -- a promise is a promise, even to that man._ He watched the progress of his ride on the screen while periodically checking his surroundings. Malcolm wasn’t about to be jumped after almost letting himself be killed by a copycat. Part of Bright hoped that Carter would die from his injuries but another part wanted him to live so he could be convicted and made to live out his life in prison. Without the comforts that he enjoyed being a rich man. _But_ , a voice muttered in his mind, _he’ll find a lawyer who’ll get him a cushy deal._

He wasn’t blind to the faults of the system. Martin was a key example of how fancy words and money save a notorious serial killer from execution. _Not going to touch the low hanging fruit and think of Arroyo and how Organized Crime is a different animal._

Thankfully the car pulled up and Malcolm was able to finally get away from the fundraiser and people there. It’d been a small mercy, changing his name. No one looked twice at him when they were introduced. _Wonder if Powell will tell Shannon who I am? Definitely not getting a call back for another case._ Belatedly he realized that Ains has a connection and even if Powell doesn’t out him, someone’s going to tell her and well, Jessica Whitly would make her anger known. _Would it really be that much of a loss if I died to save two people from Berkhead?_

The driver chattered at Malcolm but he made sure to nod and grunt in the right places so that the man would leave him be. As the driver pulled to the curb outside his place, Malcolm’s phone went off. _Three guesses and the first two don’t count,_ he mused but didn’t look at his phone. He got up to his loft and kicked off his shoes and the scarf followed shortly. 

Malcolm continued to ignore his phone. Arroyo wasn’t his concern and at this point, he was willing to let tomorrow handle itself. After all both Martin and Arroyo were going to stake a claim on his time. Again Bright wondered about picking up and moving tonight and staying out of New York forever. _Not tonight but soon,_ he consoled himself, _can’t stay here. Not with everything hanging over me._ The toll of the case and the adrenaline caught up to Malcolm and exhaustion slammed into him. 

With several efficient movements Malcolm’s clothes were off and in a heap on the floor. _Worry about that later._ He stretched and walked to the bathroom. A shower would hopefully help settle him before an attempt to sleep was made. _Go first thing in the morning and get it over with._ Malcolm continued through his usual evening routine until he was finally settled in his bed and tightening the cuffs around his wrists. _No dreams, please,_ he thought, _just need some rest._

\---

The meeting with Martin had gone well, he’d been mostly convinced with what Gil offered. After handing Malcolm’s number over they’d talk for a while. He let Martin lead the conversation. Gave tidbits of Malcolm’s life in the ten years he’d been with the FBI and some cases. Oddly enough, he’d asked about Jessica but offered up all that he knew. As the car moved away from the imposing building Gil got lost in thought. 

One of the burners that was kept in the car rang and pulled Gil from his musings. “Hello?” there was a pause on the other end and he spoke again, “Limited use on these phones. Let’s go.”

A soft voice spoke, “Got him. Taking him to the warehouse.” 

His lips twisted into a dark smirk, “Wonderful. We’ll let him stew for a few days.” There was a noise of assent and the call ended.

Gil looked out the window and took in the city as he was headed back to his office. It had been a nightmare but he’d been able to keep JT from coming with him to Claremont. JT would have demanded to come in with him but his conversation with Martin had to be man to man. _I seem to have made a good impression but he could be playing to get ahead with Malcolm._

He set that aside and would revisit that later but instead he shifted focus from Martin to Malcolm. His boy looked exhausted and stressed when he’d left the hospital and Gil worried for him. _Shannon’s got you working the copycat sweetheart, I know that’s not easy. Once you’re mine, I’ll make sure that you get the rest that you need._ Gil may detest the manner in which Martin Whitly killed but mostly what bothered him was that Malcolm finding out had hurt him.

With Malcolm weighing on his mind he pulled out his phone and made a quick call to Thoms who was currently tailing Malcolm. It took a couple rings but the woman answered, “Sir. How can I help?”

“Where is Malcolm headed?” he kept his voice even, “He looked stressed when he left Claremont.”

A slight pause and she said, “He just got back to the precinct, but with the way he was moving I don’t think they’ll be there long.” 

That made Gil curious as to what Martin had told his son or what Malcolm had figured out, which was more likely. But before he could say anymore to Thoms, his phone vibrated with an incoming text from JT. Meeting with Kellan and a charity event with Clair Berkhead at 8. 

Thanks. Gil kept the response short and then told Thoms, “Let me know where they go. This may be dangerous for him.” He ended the call and adjusted in his seat. “Drew, let’s get to this meeting and maybe it’ll be quick and painless.” _Thankfully this doesn’t have anything to do with the Family, just one of the other businesses._ He’d never figured that this would be how his life went but Gil enjoyed what came with the job. Though the present that he had for Malcolm would have to wait, he needed that to be perfect and get Malcolm’s attention. 

\---

Business had run so much later than he’d expected so Gil wasn’t able to keep in touch with Malcolm’s tail, now there’s a society function that he’d agreed to attend before Malcolm had come back for the Berkheads. Out of habit Gil kept scanning the crowds when he had to keep his face blank because Malcolm was there. _Why are you here, Blue Eyes?_ Then he realized who was next to Malcolm and Gil was able to put together that the Copycat killer was here.

 _Fucking hell, baby,_ Gil thought, _you need to stop this. I_ won’t _let that happen._ Suddenly his City Boy stopped and stared in Jessica’s direction. The horror on Malcolm’s face and Powell moving in front of him almost made him smile, but he did worry about what Blue Eyes would get into. _Kid, I know your stats and how easy you find trouble. Please, don’t do this here, where I can’t have eyes on you._

He kept an eye on his watch, each minute that Malcolm was out of his line of sight, unease built in his stomach. _Find trouble in a damn paper bag, Blue Eyes. I’ll have to keep you safe once we’re together._ Gil moved and then he saw Shannon and another detective moving in on the stairs. _Do something, Shannon._ It was about ten minutes later when there was a gunshot and those around Gil let out sounds of fear. 

His eyes rolled skyward, _Jesus Christ, Malcolm. Can you not get yourself killed within the first 72 hours, Blue Eyes?_ Gil watched as Malcolm made his way from the lobby and outside. The tense line of his shoulders tipped Gil off that something was wrong. _Malcolm, what’s wrong? What happened upstairs?_

He moved quickly through the people around him, Malcolm’s body language read of utter defeat and he wouldn’t let his soon to be fiance be alone when he looked like the world had ended. Gil called out several times when he finally made it outside but Malcolm either was ignoring him or was stuck in his head. It was only when he was able to reach out and hold Malcolm’s writs that got Blue Eyes’ attention.

Malcolm was panicking and there was no doubt in his mind that the case had gotten to him. _Your guy copied The Surgeon, of course you’re upset, but this is more._ The attempt to talk Malcolm down was harder than Gil thought it would be. _Whoever put you in this state is dead, baby, they won’t be allowed to do this to you. Do something to get your mind out of whatever happened with the police._ Gil needled Malcolm until he put Gil’s number into his phone. He pushed and then Malcolm made a show of calling his phone.

It was hard to watch as Malcolm dropped into an Uber and rode away from Gil’s side. _Don’t worry baby, I’ve got you. I’ll find out what happened and make sure that nothing can fall back on you._ A sound pulled Gil’s attention away from the car’s tail lights, the sound of JT’s boots hitting the pavement had him look over his shoulder. “Able to get anything on what happened yet?” 

JT rolled his shoulders, “If the young Miss Whitly’s to be believed, Carter Berkhead attempted to kill his ex-wife, Powell, and Bright. Don’t know exactly what happened up there, but Berkhead was shot. Unsure if he made it or not. Ms. Whitly said that he’s being charged, so I would hazard a guess that he made it.”

Gil nodded, “Get the car, I want to head home. Need to be in peak shape to see Malcolm tomorrow. Need to see if he made it back to his place.”

With an incline of his head, JT pulled out his phone and sent a quick message to Daniels to bring the car around.Gil took in JT’s body language. Malcolm had earned his head of security’s respect after Bright and Powell brought in his old army friend without killing him. Some of the younger man’s contacts within the FBI had given some information to him that wouldn’t have been made public. JT was able to keep tabs and let Gil know what Malcolm got up to throughout his career. Especially when a case landed the profiler in the hospital. 

As Daniels drove, Gil stared at his phone, waiting for the tails that he'd put on his Blue Eyes for any update. _Out of reach for three years but not any more._ When Gil was about home he got a text that Malcolm had made it in. Unwilling to stop himself, he texted Malcolm goodnight but wasn’t going to hold his breath for an answer tonight. _In future, yes,_ he thought, a smile creeping over his face.

Still wound up from the charity event and a verbal battle with the world’s stubbornest man, Gil headed through his home towards the gym. He needed to work off some of the tension before he slept. _So handsome, even underdressed, Blue._ He stripped out of the suit and slacks, grabbing a spare change of clothes. With a quick press of a remote, Gil had music playing when he started warming up. Diligent in his stretches, Gil focused on the familiar feel of muscles pulling tight then easing. 

Once finished he moved on to the weights, working through the circuit a few times pushing a little on the last reps. Exhaustion started to build but it wasn’t enough. The image of Bright standing, wind blowing his coat open slightly and turning his cheeks a delicate pink made Gil ache to know if he blushed as pretty and how far it would go. _No, don’t go there,_ he told himself firmly. He moved over to the punching bag and started a mental count. _Two minutes on, thirty seconds off._ The phrase kept running through his mind, one that his boxing coach had taught him as a kid. _Never more than twelve reps._

Pulling the edge of his tee up, Gil dried the sweat rolling down his temples. Finally, he could feel fatigue starting to set in. _Fighting’s going to be fun with you Blue,_ Gil mused, _be so worked up._ He could see it in his head. Malcolm barged in to argue about something and it all devolving into bending that slim body over his desk and having his way while Malcolm cried out in pleasure.

He took a deep breath and shut the music off and headed towards the Master suite. _Shower and sleep. Call City Boy in the morning and get a meet set._ Tossing the sweaty clothes in the bin, Gil took off his clothes and stepped under the warm spray of water. As the warm water beat down on his shoulders, Arroyo let his mind wander slightly. _Want to shower together Blue, wash your hair, have my hands on you, you boneless against me. Once you realize, everything will be ok, that Jackie knew we would fit, I’ll take such good care of you._ A small wave of melancholy washed over Gil at the thought of his late wife. _Need to visit soon, tell you that he’s back._

Gil put on a loose pair of sweats, plugged in his phone and slid into his bed. Before laying down, he double checked the gun under his pillow and the knife hidden in the nightstand. _Have to place these better when you’re finally in my bed, Blue,_ he mused, getting comfortable. With the turn of a switch it was dark and Gil was asleep.

\---

A sudden, loud sound from Gil’s phone woke him. He’d taught himself to be a light sleeper for many reasons, most having to do with his business. Gil moved and pulled the phone to him. It was a text from the person he had on Malcolm. 

Bright just left the apartment. He’s walking towards more residential areas. I’m following.

Gil looked at the time, it was just after three in the morning, “Fucking hell, Blue, we’re gonna have a talk about this.” He knew about the night terrors and insomnia but he’d hoped that his gift would help Blue but looks like a more hands on approach would be needed when they’re an official couple. He texted back.

Follow but when he circles back home, you can leave. I’ll stay for the rest of the night.

Gil dressed quickly in loose dark wash jeans and a dark henley and moved to the garage, going to his bike, putting a helmet on that obscured his face. He started the bike, revved the engine and took off towards Bright’s place. Worry ate at Arroyo as he sped through the streets to Malcolm’s. _Make sure that we exhaust you before bed when you’re mine, Blue._ He knew without a doubt that Malcolm would fight him on a protection detail. While it would be fun to see how that played out, this was something Gil would be implacable about. _Not when you insist on running into danger without adequate backup._

He slowed as he came up on Malcolm’s loft, Gil glanced around to try and find the best and most shadowed place that he could use to keep any eye on Bright’s place. It had been rough, fighting off the urge to pick the lock and go in. Especially to see how his gift was. _Not enough time and he’ll willingly invite me up one day soon._ Gil kept his eyes flicking between his phone and the darkened loft. Unease built the long his phone remained silent.

“C’mon Blue, walking the streets, stupid especially after a case,” he growled into his helmet. 

About forty minutes after Gil had parked his bike, his phone finally lit up. 

On his way back... Will be breaking off at next street

Gil’s message back was short, only meant to communicate that he’d gotten the message. Several minutes later, Malcolm walked into his line of sight. Even at a distance, Gil could tell that Malcolm’s hands were red from the cold. Frustration built in Gil’s chest, everyone else mattered but Bright, his Blue refused to believe that he should be cared for in the same manner. _I’m gonna help you, but you_ will _see and know your worth,_ Gil promised silently. He lost sight as Malcolm stumbled over the threshold and closed the door. 

A few minutes later and the lights came on. Now that Malcolm was safe in his home, Gil’s worry eased. Even though he couldn’t see much from his vantage point on the ground, staying and making sure Blue didn’t wander about again settled Gil. _I’ll keep watch while you sleep, keep you safe._ As the hours passed and the sun slowly rose for another crisp fall morning, Gil started up his bike, and with one last look towards the door, he headed home. 

On his drive back, Gil wondered about trying to meet up with Malcolm today. Three years was a very long time and the small amount of time over the last couple days was nowhere near enough 

to make up for that. He’d text Malcolm, it was likely to be easier on the profiler to respond to. But he wouldn’t stop until Bright answered at least. 

As he pulled into the garage, Gil was greeted by JT and a very irritated scowl.The bike rolled to a stop and Gil stayed where he was. He held up a hand before JT could say a word. “Don’t. I was on the bike, with the helmet. My visor stayed down the whole time.” 

JT sighed and rubbed his temples, “Boss, you hired me for security, don’t make it so I have to put a tracker on you and your… Bright. You realize we’re in the middle of negotiations, Santiago doesn’t want to play nice and the Haitians are looking to expand.” 

Gil knew what went unsaid and he raised his hands, “Fine, next time I’ll just have you go when he takes a stroll at three in the morning.”

The vein started to throb in JT’s forehead, “The kid’s a Fed and you’re wanting to wine and dine him? Doesn’t that reek of all sorts of bad idea? How do we even know if he’s actually been fired and isn’t undercover?” 

Gil glared, “Watch your tone,” he said softly. “Don’t you think I reached out to my contacts when I heard. The ones who would know if it was bullshit?” His voice was flat and icy, rage darkening his eyes. 

“Boss, you’ve been gone for this kid for three years after just one meeting in a church for a case. Why? I don’t get it. You’ve spent resources on knowing what he’s doing, where he’s at. You even sent him a fucking bird after he got fired!” 

Gil set the kickstand up and rested the bike there. Steadily rising from the seat, Gil stared JT down. “Did I question you about Tally? Did I ask why her abusive partner mysteriously disappeared from one of the ships that you were working for me? Did I ever question you about bringing someone into our Family with no prior knowledge?”

JT stood his ground, “No. But she wasn’t a fucking cop, Arroyo! If he’s a plant and you let him into the Family and we get shut down, it’s gonna fuck all of us. Not just you.” He took a deep breath, “I want you to be happy, we all do. Jackie would want that too, but a Fed?!”

Gil narrowed his eyes, “I’ve listened to what you’ve had to say. Do you really think I didn’t do my own investigation into Malcolm Bright? Do you know that’s not his given birth name? The FBI was looking for any excuse to fire him. Maybe before judging, you ask questions or use the brain that I know you have, Tarmell.” With that, Gil moved past him and into the house. As he walked through the kitchen, he forcefully dropped the helmet down on the table and headed towards his room.

The clock on his nightstand said it was just after six in the morning. Exhaustion caught up with Gil and he collapsed onto the bed and kicked his shoes off, before falling asleep set an alarm for a bit after eight. _Start texting you then Blue. We’re getting a meal, one that you’ll eat. Still remember you only ordered soup. We’ll figure it out together._

\---

The alarm went off and woke Gil. Sitting up, Gil rolled his shoulders and let tension ease from his body. _Didn’t handle speaking with JT well, must handle that later. Need to text Blue, need to see him after last night._ He changed out shirts and left his room making little sound even on the tile floor. The smell of coffee wafted through the air as Gil walked into the kitchen, the coffee maker had a timer and after much tinkering, he finally figured it out. After getting his Yankees mug and filling it, he settled at the table. 

His phone lay silent on the table as he tried to figure out how he wanted to play this. _Can’t be too aggressive. Won’t do to make him angry and drag this out longer._ Gil stared at it and mulled over the information that he had. _Dedicated, honorable, honest. But the ways you’ve tried to leave_ _me… Asking is out._ He picked up and unlocked his phone. The blank space mocked him as he thought of what would be incentive enough to get Malcolm to meet up. 

As he tapped his index finger against the back of his phone, an idea hit. _You care about family, Blue. You and Jessica may not be on the same page, but you love her. Your sister, you want her to be successful. Hmmm, play this smart Arroyo,_ he thought. Both options had pros and cons but leveraging the youngest Whitly was too much of a gamble. _Don’t want him to think I’ll hurt his sister. After all, older brothers are notorious for being protective._ That left Jessica and while Gil was sure that if he pushed the wrong way, Malcolm would fight back but…. The thought trailed off. 

_She’s trying to get back into high society’s good graces. I do have a charity event coming up._ Suddenly a plan started to form. Malcolm loved his family and would do anything for them, that was obvious to anyone who looked into the man’s life. Even if he hadn’t been home much during his time with the FBI, Malcolm did everything he could to make sure she was happy. A smirk curled Gil’s lips. _Oh, Blue, we’ll work on this, but I’ll always use it to my advantage._ He typed out a message and hit send.

There was a short delay and then his phone vibrated with an incoming message. 

Thank you, Gil, but I’m busy.

 _So cute, Blue,_ he thought, his smirk growing. Malcolm was feisty and Gil was damned sure he’d enjoy it. He let the message sit for a minute before texting back.

How about this? I know Jessica’s still trying hard to pull herself up. I can help.

Gil just kept smirking, he hadn’t had this much fun in a long time. _Definitely raised in high society with Jessica’s stubbornness._ Malcolm would keep him on his toes and hell if he wasn’t going to have fun every single second.

How could you possibly help? 

_All those sharp edges, Blue, can’t wait to show you that I’ll stay no matter what. That I won’t let you go._ Gil knew Malcolm, knew that Blue would hurt to save others. That he’d be the most extreme version of himself to keep people away. _After all, I’m sure people used you, Blue. They hurt you, too. But don’t worry, I’ll fix that._

I have a function coming up that I need planned. Jessica’s great at that. I remember how highly praised she was. Get lunch with me and she can plan the event. I’ll make it clear that she’s the brains behind it. Make sure she gets her due.

Gil enjoyed watching as the dots started and stopped for a few minutes. _That’s it, Blue, show me how obstinate you can be._ After a good five minutes or so, Malcolm’s response popped up.

Where and when?

 _That’s it, Malcolm,_ he mused, _by hook or by crook, you’re mine, even if you don’t know it._ Gil smiled as he typed up a response. 

O’Malley’s at 12:30. Dress casual. 

Gil waited for Malcolm to respond but nothing came. He laughed when he realized that this was Malcolm’s way to respond back without words. _You are definitely Jessica Whitly’s son, Blue._ It would be fun to see how Malcolm would keep him on his toes. The kid was too smart for his own good but soon that wouldn’t matter. He’d be under Gil’s protection and no one would dare risk going against a very well armed Family. Finishing his coffee, Gil stood and rinsed out the cup before putting in the dishwasher. 

He had about two hours before he needed to get to O’Malley’s. _Clean up, do some business, reach out to Jessica..._ Gil mentally worked though his list and what could be accomplished before leaving. As he moved across the living room, Arroyo mused over what he should wear. _Definitely casual but nice._ There wasn’t a need to stress, but Gil needed to keep Malcolm’s attention or at least get a read on him. He ran a comb through his hair and put on the aftershave that Jackie had loved. _I’m gonna do right by both of you,_ Gil mused. Nerves built in his belly but Jackie had set this up and this would work. 

After he finished dressing, Gil headed to the home office and focused on getting through as much as possible. The books were the worst part and the last thing that Gil would ever let someone do. _After all, that’s usually what brings down most. That and taxes._ Which he made sure that he paid on time and was as clean as possible. As he powered through the paperwork, Gil kept glancing at the clock and swore that it moved slower with each glance. _Focus on the work, get it done. Then call Jessica._ As he re-centered himself, Gil was able to clear the remaining work with the sound of the ticking clock loud in his ears.

Eyeing the clock again, he realized there was little over an hour before he’d need to leave and get to O’Malley’s first. After a quick stretch, Gil pulled his phone out and scrolled down to Jessica’s number. Taking a deep breath, he pressed send and waited.

“Gil,” she greeted on the second ring, “Wonderful of you to call! How is the morning treating you?”

He smiled as Jessica was her usual self, “Can’t complain. I saw you last night and meant to talk to you but then everything with the police and the Berkheads…,” he trailed off. 

There was a slight pause, “How awful! I feel so bad for Blair, it’ll be trying that’s for sure.” Her voice hitched slightly but Gil wasn’t about to say anything. “What did you want to talk about?”

For all that Jessica portrayed unshakable and cool, there was no doubt in Gil’s mind that it weighed heavily on her after Martin’s arrest. “See, I’ve got a function and I need some help planning it. I know that all the events that you’ve coordinated on have been wonderful and I was hoping that you could help with mine?”

The pause on the other end of the line lasted a few beats, “Are you sure that you want me involved? I mean behind the scenes I can help with.”

“No, Jessica, this will be a joint venture that you would publicly be known to have helped. I know that you do a lot of charity work. Jessica, you deserve not to be held accountable for what happened with Martin.” Gil paused, he didn’t want to push too hard. After all, like Mother, like son. “This is to help with victims of violent crimes.” 

A soft noise on the other end of the line, “I-- I’m so sorry for what happened to your wife,” her words were sincere and Gil appreciated them even if it didn’t alleviate all of the pain. 

“You weren’t responsible for her death anymore than you were for Martin’s victims.” 

She went quiet again, “Are you sure? I mean, I might be a bit out of practice.” 

Gil smiled slightly, “That’s okay, you’ll get practice and if everything goes well, we can host more events in the future.”

Before Gil could end the call, Jessica spoke, “Not that I don’t appreciate this, but what made you choose me? There are more socially respectable people that would draw more of a crowd and don’t have a stain on the family name.”

“Twenty years is a long time to be blamed for something that you didn’t do.”

Her voice went tight, “This will be the best damn event the city sees this year.”

Gil smiled slightly, “I know it will be.” 

The call ended and he smirked. _Plus one with Jessica._ Winning over Ainsley would be the hardest of the family members but Martin and Jessica were off to a good start. While he mused over what he could do to gain the youngest Whitly’s favor, Gil kept an eye on time. Just as he was leaving his office, he sent a quick text to JT, letting him know where he was headed, should the man decide to follow him. 

He picked up his keys and helmet, Gil loved his Le Mans but the bike offered more maneuverability and speed. The Softail Slim was a beautiful machine and he loved it. There were other ideas floating around in his mind. Most of which included Malcolm. _Kid’s an adrenaline junkie, but I wonder how he’d handle the speed? Put him in my coat_. The open road, they would definitely take a drive in the fall, see the trees. The drive through the city was laid back for a Saturday afternoon and he couldn’t help the smile when O’Malley’s came into view. The place held many fond memories. Dates with Jackie, his parents, the owners and their children. 

After he’d gotten in the life and made it to where he was now, Gil’s first act had been to make sure that those in his world knew that this place and the family were under his protection. He’s been a regular for years. It’s always a big deal when someone comes in with him. Gil hoped to give the staff enough warning that when Malcolm did show up, they would already have the gossiping out of their systems. Wouldn’t do to scare Malcolm away by everyone gawking at him. The kid was a private person, that wasn’t hard to determine. 

Gil pulled his helmet off just as he stepped in the door, pushing the keys into his coat pocket. His smile grew when he saw Siobhan behind the counter, her greying red hair pulled back into a tight braid with a few flyaway strands framing her face as she smiled happily at Gil. 

“‘F it ain’t my favorite customer!” she greeted. “We’ve missed you, Gil! We were thinkin’ of hunting you down and bringing you in. Mel’s been worried and well,” she glanced behind her into the kitchen, “the old man’s missed you coming around.” 

Gil’s smile turned slightly sad. Siobhan’s father bought and ran the diner for over fourty-five years. He treated Gil like one of his own kids but shortly after Gil introduced Jackie, Aodhan had fallen in love immediately. Gil lost count of the times that he’d come over during their dates and tell Jackie just how much she reminded him of Siobhan’s late mother, Maryann. And to doubly remind Gil that Jackie deserved the world and that he’d better treat her like a queen.

“How’s he doing? I heard that he’d caught Bronchitis last month.”

The smile fell a bit, “He’s getting there. Stubborn man won’t let us take care of him.” 

A laugh escaped and Gil smirked, “That man will outlive us all. I actually wanted to talk to you before my guest joins me. You have a sec?”

Her head tilted slightly at the word guest, “Of course,” she rounded the counter and gestured for Gil to follow her away from the door. “Is this for business or something else?” 

A small, soft smile pulled at Gil’s lips, “Personal but,” he trailed off, “but it’s important. You remember the young man?” 

Siobhan’s eyes narrowed, “This the one you think Jackie sent to you?” 

“She always told me that if anything ever happened, she’d send someone else for me. We both know that she was a woman of her word. He’s got her sass, stubbornness, and whip smart.” He paused, “I still miss her, but this, she’s giving me a chance and I’ll tell him all about her.” Gil took a deep breath, “Things have been hard for him, but I want Malcolm to feel safe here.”

Siobhan pursed her lips slightly, “This your way of asking to keep people away while you try to get your boy?”

“Please? Right now, he sees this as business. It was the only way to get him to agree to meet.” Gil wasn’t above begging, not when it meant that he could bring Malcolm here regularly and make sure he was fed. 

Several expressions ran across her face as Siobhan took Gil in before settling on determination. “Ok, I’ll keep them back, but if the Old Man comes out to meet this kid, you’re on your own, better hope that he makes a good first impression.”

Gil hoped that he wouldn’t but at the same time, having Blue meet Aodhan now could benefit in tying Malcolm to him. After all, one look at Blue and how thin he was, Aodhan would want to fatten him up. “I’ll take it. I know she sent him to me, I remember when Jackie and I first ran into each other. At St. Patrick’s which is where we met, too.”

Siobhan’s face softened at Gil’s words, “Jackie was a smart woman.” With that she turned and headed back into the kitchen, yelling for her people. 

Gil headed towards one of the booths away from the bank of windows. Though he might mess with JT, he wouldn’t make an easy target for their enemies. _Speak of the devil,_ he mused. JT stomped into the diner and made a beeline for the back that gave him a clear view of the entire place. The glower that JT tossed his way almost made Gil crack a smile but he knew it would be best to not antagonize the man. _Still need to apologize for my words this morning._ Just as he looked down at his watch, the bell chimed. _Early, but not surprising, Blue._ Gil stood and raised a hand as Malcolm glanced around. 

Gil wanted to laugh at Malcolm’s version of casual. Black slacks, nice blue button up shirt, and tie that he wanted to use for other things. “City Boy,” he greeted, “Glad you could join me!”

Malcolm’s raised eyebrow told Gil exactly what he thought. “Afternoon,” the tone was even but under those burning blues, there was a hint of anger. “Thanks for helping Mother.” Malcolm sat and said nothing further.

 _Get it together, Arroyo, get him talking. This was a deal not a date to Blue._ “It’s no problem at all. She didn’t have anything to do with Dr. Whitly’s crimes, she shouldn’t continue to be treated like she did.”

“What suddenly made you decide that? You’ve obviously known her long enough to feel that way.” Malcolm’s tone was polite but Gil could read what he wasn’t saying. 

Gil thought for a moment, “I wasn’t exactly at the peak of society twenty years ago and I’m just now getting to enjoy the benefits of wealth that the Old Money is taking an interest in.”

Blue eyes flicked back and forth, most likely to see if Gil was lying. He eased up when he didn’t see anything. “Be wary of the Old Money,” Blue said. “I can at least offer that to you.”

The pair settled into an uncomfortable silence for a couple minutes, Bright seeming to let his mind wander as he looked around, taking in the walls, decorations, and then his eyes flicked to JT. A flash of recognition and then he shut that down. 

“Thank you. I don’t exactly search them out.” Gil didn’t add that they came to him when they needed his brand of help. “I was sorry to hear about what happened on the case in Tennessee.”

Another arched brow and Gil wanted to swear at someone or something. _Figure something out before he tries to profile you! He already knows that you’re Organized Crime, but you don’t need him to see under what you do._ “They were looking for a reason to fire me.”

Rage boiled in Gil’s belly but those people would take patience to get to, after all. “Still, I kept an eye on your career. Your closure rate was much higher than anyone else in the Bureau. You deserved better.”

There was a humourless smile that twisted its way across Blue’s face, “It was a miracle that I got in to begin with. What exactly did you want from me?”

Gil weighed his options before answering. _Lying’s out but too direct and he’ll run. Brave as he is, I can’t push too much._ “I wanted to get to know you more. After all, I don’t meet very many well off people who go into public service.”

“Well, not all of us have serial killers for a Father.”

It was said as fact and without inflection but Gil could read the shift in body language that Malcolm couldn’t stop. “Doesn’t mean that what you do is anything other than noble, Malcolm.” The way that Blue held himself spoke of how he’d been taking care of himself for a very long time. _Don’t worry, soon I’ll take care of you. You won’t need to be strong. Let me protect you._

“I appreciate the sentiment, Mr. Arroyo.”

“Gil, please.” _The most I’ve gotten out of him, let’s keep going._ “Before going into law enforcement, what did you think about doing?”

“I don’t think I need to answer that, _Gil_ ,” he snapped back, “After all most children say they’re going to grow up and have their parents’ profession.” He took a slow breath, “The word doctor will be no where near my name.”

 _Ok, ok, City Boy, let me ask about a case, that’s probably going to go over better._ But just as Gil went to speak, Siobhan spoke and pulled him from that train of thought.

“What can I get you? Gil, I’m assuming you want the usual?” She studied Bright and then glanced at Gil, “Lunch’s on the house, before you even get any ideas, Arroyo.”

The byplay seemed to surprise Malcolm, “Just water, please.”

Before Gil could say anything, Siobhan pinned Malcolm with a look. “Hun, you’re gonna eat. A strong wind and you’ll blow away.” 

Malcolm looked at Gil and he just held up his hands, “Best not to argue with her, Siobhan gets her way. If you want a suggestion, I’ll suggest the chicken and rice special.” His statement was met with a blank stare and a few blinks. 

“That sounds fine, but no spice? Food makes me sick.”

She glanced at Gil and he nodded, “Can I get a Vanilla Coke, Siobhan? No one compares to the magic you make here.” 

“You been stepping out with other restaurants?” Her tone was playful, “Maybe you should stick to those gas station ones, Arroyo if you’re desperate.”

Gil laughed, “Only when I miss my people here and can’t get in.”

With that, she inclined her head and walked away. He smiled and looked back at Malcolm. “I’d apologize but Siobhan’s exactly who she is with no apologies.” 

Bright smiled slightly, “She seems like good people. Even if I’m not the biggest fan of food.” 

He wanted to ask, to know why food was an issue but Gil knew that they weren’t close enough for that, not yet. “Before she came, I wanted to ask. What’s the strangest case that you’ve worked?”

Malcolm just stared at him, “You’re asking about my work?” 

“It’s easy to see that you’re passionate about profiling and stopping serial killers is obvious. I’m sure that there are cases that weren’t well known that you’ve been a part of.” 

Malcolm blinked a couple of times but shrugged. “How do you define strange? I worked a lot. Consulted on more that I didn’t have a direct hand in.” 

Gil sighed, “I define it like everyone else, Bright. The weirdest one then. I’m sure that there are some that even were bizarre for you."

Bright huffed, “You’re right. It was actually a few weeks after I left New York. There was an interesting case happening out in Oregon. They sent us out in pairs. My partner and I worked this case where people would be murdered and then dressed up as clowns.”

He just stared at Blue, “Killed and _then_ dressed as clowns?” 

“Yes! Swanson and I had a lot of fun running those leads down. Did you know coulrophilia is a thing?”

Gil paused, “Wait, was this before or after the evil clown thing that happened in twenty sixteen?”

Malcolm grinned, “Right in the middle!” He licked his lips slightly, “I mean, the guy had other fantasies and fetishes besides the whole clown thing.” 

“Did he just put them in clown costumes?”

“It was elaborate. All the makeup was hand drawn on with grease paint. The clothing was period clothing so that helped in tracking purchases. After all, there aren’t a lot of places that have period accurate clown costumes and fewer people who buy them.

“That must have been really intense on the town,” Gil mused, but paused while Siobhan set their drinks down. He waited until she was out of earshot, “At least say that kids weren’t the ones to find the victims?” He was many things, but kids didn’t need to be exposed to things like that. 

“No, thankfully, it was older people who were out hunting in deep woods. After all, parents in that small town were already keeping their kids close, even the teens. Evil clowns after all.”

The more Malcolm talked about the case, the more Gil came to love how lively he was. His hands moved as he talked about the case in detail. _Jackie, this is wonderful, thank you for bringing us together._ He smiled as Malcolm told Gil about the arrest and that it was just as strange as the rest of his case. 

“Here we are, gentlemen,” Siobhan smiled slightly, “Make sure you eat, kid. We wouldn’t want Gil’s new friend to fly away.”

Malcolm smiled slightly at the woman, “For you, I’ll do my best.”

He settled back in the booth and watched Bright for a minute. He was relaxed and it was good to see. Gil kept asking small things to keep Malcolm talking to learn more. Especially since he’d had such limited contact in the last three years. While Malcolm was moving onto another case, Gil glanced up and had to battle nerves. 

For being in his early eighties, Aodhan was in good shape. The shock of white hair and sharp green eyes that were trained on Gil. This was much the same feeling of Jackie’s first time here. Something must have shown on his face because Malcolm suddenly became aware of the sound of footsteps headed their way. After all, Siobhan’s footsteps were rapid and soft. The sound of Aodhan’s steps was sure, heavy, and slow. Something that Malcolm would notice after being trained and in the FBI for almost a decade. 

Gil stood and held out his hand to shake and was pulled bodily into the older man. Which in hindsight, Gil should've expected, cold towards most people, Aodhan was tactile with people he deemed his. "Why such a delay between visits, Arroyo?"

"Business, Sir. Couldn't be helped," he said, respect for a retired fighter and enforcer that took the occasional hit. "This is Malcolm." Gil gestured at Malcolm and there was a slight pause as Aodhan looked Malcolm over.

Malcolm stood and his eyes flicked over the man quickly, but held out his hand, “Malcolm Bright.” He turned on the social charm and society smile that Gil had seen three years ago and again last night. “It’s nice to meet you, sir. I hope you’re well?”

Though he worried over introducing Blue to a lot of people, Aodhan was a man unto himself. Belatedly Gil realized he hadn’t introduced the elder man. “Malcolm, this is Aodhan O’Malley. He started and ran this place until Siobhan forced him to turn it over.”

“Ah,” he said, large hard engulfing Malcolm’s and then looked at Gil. “I see.” He shook Malcolm’s hand and let go. “You ok, kid?” 

It took Bright a second to realize that O’Malley was talking to him. “Yes, I’m well.” He slid back into his seat, Gil doing the same.

A disbelieving huff, “Don’t look it. Good wind and you’re gone.”

Before Gil could worry too much, Bright laughed and snarked back, “Most food makes me sick. So on a good day, I get chicken and rice down.”

O’Malley threw his head back and gave a hoarse chuckle, “This one’s gonna make hell for anyone, I can just tell.”

Bright’s smile was soft. He started for a split second when a hand clapped him on the shoulder, “Come around, Malcolm, I’ll make sure we find more food that you can eat.” With a nod at Gil and another, softer knock on Malcolm’s shoulder he walked back towards the counter where Siobhan was raising an eyebrow with a smirk.

Gil smiled after the man and glanced at Bright. That society smile gone and replaced with a much smaller and more genuine version. Which fell as the younger man glanced down at his watch. _I don’t like that look on you, Blue. I’m gonna make sure that I don’t put it on your face._

“I’m sorry, Gil,” the mask went up and the light seemed to dim in Malcolm’s face. “I have to leave to make my other obligation. Have a good night.”

The slight inward turn of Malcolm’s shoulders bothered Gil. Malcolm hadn’t told him what he had to do after their lunch. _It could range from having to meet with Shannon to dinner with Jessica, poor thing, don’t worry, soon you won’t face those alone._ He watched for as long as he could, seeing Blue hail a taxi and set off down the road. “JT,” Gil called without taking his eyes off the street, “I’m sorry about this morning. I wouldn’t bring him in or _here_ unless I was sure about him.”

“I’m still gonna reserve my thoughts until he proves himself,” JT said from behind him. 

Gil just smiled and waved him off, “I get that, but I’m gonna be busy this afternoon and I know Tally was looking forward to a movie, go.”

\---

_Officially on the top five of strangest meals_ , Malcolm mused as the cab started towards Claremont. It was a pretty rough start to a lunch but by the end, if Malcolm didn’t know who Gil was, what he did… _Nope, no, not going down that road. Did it once, not ever again. FOCUS_ , he yelled mentally, _going to see Martin, can’t be distracted._ The drive was uneventful and Malcolm wished it would last much longer. The deal turned a knife that he hadn’t dealt with in a long time. 

He shivered slightly as he walked through the building but did his best to put up his usual facade and kept his right hand in his coat pocket. As he reached Dr. Whitly’s cell, David inclined his head. “Malcolm, always good to see you.”

He smiled slightly, “We should get coffee when you’re not on duty.” 

“You sure you want to head in? He’s been a little manic today, son.” 

Malcolm quirked his lips, “Probably because I put off coming back.” A deep breath, “If he’s ready, I’m ready.”

Mr. David sighed but unlocked and pulled the door open, “Martin.”

“Mr. David! Oh, Malcolm, m’boy!” The gleam in Martin’s eye and the grin was slightly unsettling as the door closed and he was left alone in the cell. “I was starting to worry you weren’t coming.” Underneath the placid look, Malcolm could see an intense emotion that he couldn’t read. 

_Don’t fall into it, only cares about himself. Can’t let him get into your head, Mal._

“I was taught to honor promises, Dr. Whitly. I said I’d come back and I did.” Malcolm wasn’t sure how to treat this meeting. _Don’t offer anything up and don’t come back._ “In the,” he glanced at his watch, “last sixteen hours, I’m sure that nothing’s changed.”

“Yes! Yes, that’s a great quality and one that I hope you’ll always keep. But come, tell me about the case! What happened?”

Malcolm sat in the chair and made sure to look at ease, “Stopped Burkehead and saved two people.” 

“Oh, surely you have more to say than that!” Martin exclaimed, “There must have been some sort of show down!”

Bright crossed his legs and wondered, _do I tell you that I tried to let him kill me? That I had to tell two people who I was related to?_ “Well, I did what I was trained to do, I talked the killer down until he was focused on me and then Shannon shot him before he could kill anyone.”

Martin made a face, "Shannon? Oh, that horrible man who kept questioning you even after you turned me in?”

Anger and resentment built in his chest, “Yeah, him.”

Something in his tone stopped Martin and he started studying Malcolm. “I know that he was unpleasant, my boy, but did he say something to you?"

"Why would he? Not like I go by Whitly anymore," he sneered. 

Martin blinked and stared. He enjoyed watching all the emotions flicking across the older man's face. Rage, confusion, disbelief, and faux hurt. "W-when did you change your name?"

"Did you think the FBI was going to let me in with _that name_?" 

Martin tilted his head, “What’s your nom de guerre now, Malcolm?” There was a sharp smile that had Malcolm on guard. Even existing here for twenty years, Dr. Whitly was still a danger.

“Bright.”

Malcolm kept smirking as Martin pulled against the tether for a minute or so before he spoke, “You’re still my son. No matter what happens or name you go by, you'll always be my boy.” 

“Does it really matter?” Malcolm met the hard stare head on. “I can’t get out of the shadow that name casts, but last night, I was almost successful.” Before he could stop it, Malcolm laughed. It was harsh and loud in the room and the sound unsettled Martin visibly. “I almost died because I was your son last night.”

Martin stumbled back slightly at the venom in Bright’s words. A few blinks and he asked, “What do you mean you almost died last night?!”

“I told you I kept Berkhead’s focus. How do you think I did that?” 

“I assumed you’d wow him with your profile,” Martin answered, his usual confidence wavering in Malcolm’s flat gaze. 

A smile twisted Bright’s lips, “You realize Carter was killing women who looked like his wife? He was punishing her for the betrayal of seeking a professional Dom.” The smile grew wider, “He was going to shoot a detective and then kill his wife. Betrayal was his trigger.” Malcolm took pleasure in the slowly dawning realization. “So who better to draw his attention than the horrid son who turned his hero in? After all, he figured he’d be doing you a favor by getting rid of me.”

“Malcolm, my boy--” Martin started, but was cut off.

“See, I was almost the last victim in your Quartet. It would have been fitting.” Malcolm took a shuddering breath, “I was ready to die, after all maybe that could hurt you in a way that I never could. Maybe you'd understand the pain you put those families through. Maybe I could make things better by dying.” The words hit their mark and Malcolm grinned. _Look fucking manic I’m sure, but I hurt you. I hurt_ you, he thought viciously.

The speechlessness almost made Malcolm laugh but he was exhausted and was happy to take pleasure in the small digs he could get in. With an incline of his head, Malcolm turned on his heel and knocked on the glass to get David’s attention. Behind him, Martin was pacing and speaking but Bright focused on leaving. _Let this be the last you see, Dr. Whitly. I won’t come back._ His spine was ramrod straight and waved Mr. David off when he tried to get close. 

As he walked out into the brisk autumn afternoon, the wind blew. Suddenly, Malcolm realized his face was wet. He rubbed his fingers across his face, trying to dry the tears away. _Fuck, fuck. Need to stop thinking, need to stop._ In the long run, confessing to Dr. Whitly that he was ready to die would probably bring unneeded complications but it had been worth it to see the man so wrong footed. 

Under all of that though, Malcolm felt another itch starting to build and, while he’d usually fight and reach out to friends that he had within the community, Bright’s sense of self preservation and the desire to hurt burned too fast and too hard. So he hailed an Uber. _Fucking stupid, but I’m back in town, just saw Martin, and wanted to die…_

As he cut that thought off, he focused on getting to the club. It was still the weekend and it was slowly turning to night. It wasn’t going to be hard to have a quick hookup. Bright was quiet through the drive and thanked the lady when he got out. While he’d been out of the city for a long time, he’d kept his membership with the club which meant getting what he deserved would be easy.

To the outside observer, the building looked like any other business office, after the second floor, things were very much not a typical workplace. Pulling out the card he had for the electronic lock, Malcolm slid inside and started towards the elevator. Each month the passcode to the elevator changed but was sent through an anonymous number what the new code was. After punching it in, excitement burned and Malcolm rolled his shoulders back. There were many well to do and famous people who would frequent so this place was all about discretion. 

The room was filled with soft lights and shadows. Bright left his coat and scarf with the shapley Domme at the door. “Thank you, ma’am,” his voice was soft as he started to let himself drop slightly. The had done several scenes before he moved out of New York state permanently, she was one of the regulars that could really send him flying.

A smile stretched across deep crimson colored lips and a slim hand with finely manicured nails brushed through his hair, “Pretty,” her voice was raspy, “Be a good boy tonight.”

Malcolm dipped his head, “Yes, ma’am,” he kept his eyes down, “I’m back for a while now if you’d like to scene again, Mistress.” 

“Mmm, that’s a pretty offer, baby, we’ll see.” 

Even though he’d propositioned her, Malcolm was glad that she was handling entry. _Going to do something stupid_ , he mused. He headed towards the bar while he tried to organize what he wanted to do. _Find a top but demand no aftercare. Need pain, a firm hand._ After getting a bottle of water, Malcolm sat facing the slowly crowding room. Eyes darted over each person, taking in body language and positions. _Look for someone who’s gonna bend the rules,_ Bright mused, _someone who knows exactly where they’d be breaking house rules._ After about twenty minutes of sipping on the water, Malcolm saw who he’d approach. 

He was older and had the air that Malcolm knew. _Only after his own pleasure and wouldn’t give a shit about his partner._ Exactly what he was looking for tonight. Between the case with Shannon, his interaction with Arroyo, and trying to hurt Martin, Malcolm needed a break. 

Though Malcolm wasn’t dressed in his usual club attire, he knew that he still looked good. Adjusting the top couple buttons to show off his slender neck, Malcolm moved so that he was draped over the stool and would attract attention. Even if it wasn’t the man that he initially profiled, he was in this to get fucked and have pain inflicted on him. _Something to drown out the voices, for letting Martin have three additional victims by proxy. For another person dropping me cause who my Father is._

Bright idly played with his water and kept glancing from under his lashes in the older man’s direction. About twenty minutes into checking him out and making bedroom eyes, he finally strutted over to Malcolm. 

***

“Alone, pretty thing?” The man was slightly taller than Bright with broad shoulders and dark eyes. His rough accented voice washed over Malcolm. 

“For now…” Malcolm flirted, “You?”

“Think I might have found my company.” A slow look up and down Malcolm and he licked his lips. “Limits pretty?” 

“Don’t call me son and no visible marks but other than that, anything goes.” Malcolm paused, “What should I call you?”

A large hand reached out and curled just so around Malcolm’s throat that had him tilting his head back, “Call me Sir.” The hand tightened slightly, fingers slid down Bright’s chest until they entwined with his fingers. “Let’s go somewhere a little more private.” 

He left the water where it was and placidly followed after. Small hope that he’d be driven out of his mind. The callouses on the taller man’s hand made Bright wonder at what the man did but decided that it didn’t matter so long as the muscle and strength behind it wasn’t a joke. As soon as they were around the corner and away from the bar, Malcolm’s back collided with the wall. A bite to his lips had Malcolm gasping into the man’s mouth. A knee shoved between his thighs made Malcolm moan into the rough kiss.

For a few minutes time passed Malcolm by until the man pulled back, “Do you like a little audience, pretty?”

“Fuck…” He trailed off. “Yes, Sir. I do.”

A large hand was shoved down Malcolm’s pants and rough fingers curled around his half hard cock lightly, “I can fuck you here against the wall or we can go through here,” he said, tilting his head to the viewing room with a large window. “All those nice toys and people will watch.”

Malcolm’s dick twitched, “Will you flog me, Sir?” He shoved his hips forward for more contact. 

Before he realized what was happening, the other hand wrapped around his throat and squeezed, “You little slut. Take what I give or that flogging will seem gentle compared to a good spanking.”

The thick fingers at his throat made it a little harder to breathe. Already the voices were slowly getting softer. Malcolm arched against the hand trying for more pressure. “Sorry, Sir. How can I make it up to you?” He batted his lashes playfully at Sir. “I’m sure there’s something I can do.”

Sir pulled his hand from out of Malcolm’s slacks and shoved him into the room. “How about you get on your knees and I see if that mouth is as good as it looks.”

Malcolm smirked and made a show of kneeling down and keeping eye contact. “Do you want to cum down my throat Sir? Or would you be willing to fuck my ass after you’ve flogged me?”

The rough swearing made Malcolm grin and rub his face against the thick bulge. “So you’re a brat, huh?” A hoarse laugh came from the man and he buried his fingers in Malcolm’s hair and shoved his face firmly against his cock. “Put that mouth to work,” the deep voice lowered to a growl, “and if you’re good, I’ll give you the beating you’re begging for.”

Bright did his best not to smirk. _All the same, but let's see what you can do._ Nimble fingers teased as he slid the man’s pants down his thick thighs. They locked gazes and Malcolm played with the elastic of the man’s underwear. _C’mon, c’mon, show me what you can do._ Sir let this go for a few minutes before getting frustrated and pushing the cloth down until it was just under his balls and tugged hard at Malcolm’s hair.

“Open your fucking mouth, boy,” he snarled, “Wanna see those lips wrapped around my cock and hear you gagging.”

Malcolm touched his tongue to his bottom lip. Pressed soft kisses to the man’s dark cock. He kept teasing the head until he was sure that Sir’s attention was completely on him, then Bright opened his mouth and took most of the cock in his mouth. Letting his tongue trace along the veins and tease just under the tip, Malcolm kept eye contact wanting to judge the man.

“Fuck,” Sir’s head tilted back, “Fucking hell.” Thick fingers tightened even more in Malcolm's hair and he hummed. “Keep doing that. Shit, you were made to take cock.” 

Malcolm slobbered over the wide cock. He wasn’t as long as some of Malcolm’s other partners but Sir was fucking _thick_. A deep breath and he started to work more of the cock into his mouth. Moaning and trying to take more in, Malcolm choked slightly, but kept going. Suddenly one hand became two and the man started to thrust into Malcolm’s throat.

“That’s it, nice and tight.” The man moaned above him. “Such a good toy, taking what you deserve.” Hips kept grinding and Malcolm felt light headed but the man pulled out of his mouth. A thin string of saliva and precum connected them still. He could feel the tears that had come but before he could say anything, that thick cock was shoved back down his throat.

Malcolm struggled slightly instinctively before settling down and letting the man move his head. Sucking a man off really got Malcolm’s endorphins going and if this went the way he wanted, then he’d definitely be out of his head by the end. He swallowed when the head of Sir’s cock was in his throat and the moans above him were even more arousing. Within a few seconds, Malcolm was gasping at air and being tugged to his feet.

He was shoved across the room to the bench. With quick work the other man set about stripping him and restraining him. “Bet that pale skin turns a pretty red.” Excitement built in Malcolm’s chest. _Finally, let’s see what you can do._ He strained slightly against the leather and whined. It was tight, just the way Bright loved it. Shivers wracked his frame as fingertips ran up and down his spine, following bones. 

It was quiet and still for a few moments, the man moved in front of Malcolm and tied a blindfold tightly around his eyes. “No talking, kid,” the accent washed over Malcolm and he shuddered at the command. “Make all the noise you want, brat.”

The cool air hardened Malcolm’s nipples while he waited for the next touch. He almost jolted at the light slap on his thigh and nails pressing hard into his skin. A low whine worked its way out of Malcolm’s throat and tried to arch into the contact. The further up Malcolm’s thighs the rougher the scratches felt. His cock was throbbing when the man moved away. Bright bit his lip, doing his best to not talk even though he wanted to goad the Dom into doing something. Several minutes went by then he spoke again.

“Such a good toy, waiting patiently.” A hand gripped Malcolm’s hair and pulled his head back and exposed his throat. “Since you’ve been so patient and followed well so far.” Malcolm didn’t expect the stinging slap to his cheek and grinned, breath coming faster. One more hard tug and the Dom stepped back. “Let’s see how you’ll handle this…” 

There were muted sounds of footsteps and movement shove Malcolm’s anticipation up even more. Suddenly soft leather straps were laid against his back and he moaned and thrust his hips trying to get some friction against his cock. Rough laughter filled his ears, the leather was gone but in a heartbeat and then the strips connected. A guttural moan filled the room and the pain was singing through all of his nerve endings.

Several quick swats and Malcolm’s cock was leaking precum, Malcolm felt himself starting to fly, the endorphins rushing through his blood. All cognizant thought was gone and Malcolm kept arching into each blow. 

“You take it so good, boy,” His rough voice and accent made the words sound more erotic and he nodded. Moved his back to try and entice the man to hit him again. 

The air whistled and Malcolm jerked against the cuffs on his wrists. Malcolm fucked the air and whined, a dark chuckle, and another hard slap. “Fuck, please!” The words were out before Malcolm could stop them.

“Think I told you not to talk,” the dom’s voice growled, “But maybe you need something to occupy your mouth, kid.” A hard slap to Malcolm’s cheek and the man moved away. There were more rustling noises and Malcolm felt a ball gag shoved roughly between his teeth. He moaned roughly at the treatment. “Just want to hear your sounds, kid.”

Another flurry of blows and Malcolm was vibrating with need. The soft thunk of the flogger being set down made Malcolm whine. He needed to be fucked, fucked so hard. Fingers trailed down his back, pressing on welts to shove more sounds out of Malcolm. Finally, _finally,_ the man shoved his cheeks apart to show off his hole. 

“Such a pretty pink,” he murmured, “Do you wanna know something, kid?” He stretched over Malcolm’s prone body, “We’ve got some people. A few are touching themselves. Does that make you hot?” A rough hand pulled Malcolm’s head back and he nodded frantically. “Should I take my time stretching your pretty hole, give them a show?”

Malcolm canted his hips up and moaned. The rough calluses against his skin was a stark contrast to his smooth skin which made Bright shudder harder. Suddenly cool lubed fingers brushed down and started teasing his rim. The burn felt wonderful, Malcolm hadn’t been taken like this in a few months. One finger became two and he shoved hard against Malcolm’s prostate. 

A muffled yell as the constant pressure as he was stretched, Malcolm kept thrusting back as much as possible with the way he was bound. “Keep making those sounds and I’m gonna just have you.”

 _Yes,_ he thought, _please, just don’t make me wait._ With more determination, Malcolm worked his hips to try and entice the man to get on with pounding him. The fingers inside of him started to stretch more than tease his prostate. There was more intent than playing now. _C’mon, fucking, c’mon,_ Malcolm goaded mentally, _I know you’re gonna be rough_. 

“Such a good little toy,” he snarled and yanked his fingers out. 

The crinkle of a condom wrapper and rough breathing had Malcolm whining and fighting for more against the cuffs. “Settle,” he snarled and landed a hard swat against Malcolm’s inner thigh. “Gonna fuck you good,” the Dom leaned over Malcolm again and bit roughly at his shoulder. “Don’t cum until I say, kid.”

The slow burning push had Malcolm trying to shove back to make the man move faster. A rough hand held Malcolm in an iron grip and forced him to stay still. “You take what I give you,” he growled.

Malcolm could feel saliva sliding down from the gag and that the fabric of the blindfold was damp, it’d been a long while since a partner had reduced him to a slobbering, crying mess. He whined when the man bottomed out. “Look at that, all spread on my cock. Nice and hot.”

Teasing thrusts had Malcolm whining and bucking. A lilting laugh, “Such a brat, kid, but don’t worry,’ the voice rumbled. “I’ll take it out of your arse.”

It was a slow slide that teased Malcolm, until just the tip of the Dom’s cock was inside. Only seconds, but it seemed like minutes as Bright tried to beg around the gag, beg that he get on with it. Just as he took a breath, his partner slammed back inside and hit his prostate dead on. His scream was muffled by the gag and he tried to shove harder to get more of the man’s cock inside him. The hands on his waist moved to cup his ass, pulling his cheeks open for a better view of where they were joined.

“Only the people closest to the glass can see your slutty hole spread on my dick.” A rough squeeze and sudden thrust, Malcolm keened.The words stopped and the Dom set a brutal rhythm, almost pulling completely out of Malcolm’s body and ramming back in. He was accurate with each thrust, nailing Malcolm’s prostate. 

Malcolm was only aware of the pounding, his body rocking with each rough thrust. His orgasm was building and it was a struggle to keep fighting from cumming. So lost in how he was being used, it was a surprise when a rough hand slapped onto a few of the welts. His scream was still clear even through the gag. “Can you take one more, pretty boy? I’ll let you cum if you can on my dick while I hit one of those lovely welts.” A rough brush over one had Malcolm arching and trying to answer around his gag. 

Again and Malcolm came violently. Body spasming and deaf to the sounds around him. There was only the sensation of the Dom’s unsteady thrusts until he ground against Malcolm’s ass and shuddered. Panting and moaning, Malcolm went limp in the cuffs. The man settled against Malcolm’s back for a bit and then pulled out slowly. He groaned at the slight burn and went boneless as the gag was removed. A hand ran through Malcolm’s hair and then was gone. 

***

For a while, Malcolm laid there and didn’t move. He waited for the cuffs to be undone so he could dress and make a run for it. After all, that had been the plan when they’d talked at the bar. Suddenly the hand was back in his hair. It jolted Malcolm a bit more out of his high. 

“Wait, no, I don’t need--” He started.

“Hush,” the voice was soft and the hand moved from his hair to wrap around the nape of his neck and squeeze gently. But Malcolm kept trying to move out from under the grip. The hand squeezed tighter and Malcolm whined and went limp. 

“Good boy,” the voice praised. A shiver had goosebumps pop up over his arms. _Always been a sucker for praise,_ he mused.

One hand stayed on Malcolm as he moved and gently unbuckled his ankles. Sure fingers massaged gently up his leg. The warm touch was soft and made Malcolm realize that he was shivering in the cool air. His other ankle was released and had the same treatment before a soft dragging sound pulled him up a bit. He sighed as the Dom laided a heavy blanket on him and Mal started to warm up. 

Then something soft was put under his cheek, it wasn’t a pillow but it was significantly softer than the slight padding the table had. A hand moved to his hair again while the other worked on getting Malcolm’s wrists free from the leather. As soon as his hands were loose, Bright tried to pull at the blindfold but two hands caught his wrists and just held them. 

“Ok,” Malcolm huffed softly. 

A thumb stroked over the back of his hand while the other moved to rest under his chin, two fingers rested on his pulse point. _Not what I pegged,_ Malcolm mused, _didn’t think he’d do aftercare._ Both men were focused on Malcolm’s heartbeat slowing down. The hand that was under Malcolm’s chin kept him anchored in the moment. Fingers slid in a proprietary manner along his jaw while a thumb rested on his bottom lip. 

_Interesting, but strange. Definitely only a hook up,_ Malcolm thought. _Why all this?_ The second hand settled back into Malcolm's hair and fingernails gently scratched at his scalp which had him all but purring. There was a soft chuckle from above him and fingers scratched a little more. 

Eventually, the hand in his hair moved back to his neck and kneaded the muscles there. Slowly the tension he’d been carrying since setting foot back in New York was easing out of his body and Malcolm went boneless. Unsure how long the soft massage went on, Malcolm was almost dozing off when the massage stopped.

“Stay,” the voice whispered softly and gave one final rough squeeze to the nape of Bright’s neck and then the hands were gone. There were footsteps and he waited. _Must be grabbing water or something._ He laid there, nosing into the soft cloth under his cheek and waited. Waited. Waited. 

Confusion peaked and Malcolm sat up, undoing the blindfold. _Why would?_ He glanced around, _is he not coming back?_ Sitting upright for a few minutes, Mal waited for the man to come back for a little longer. While he was sitting there, he picked up the fabric that had been put under his cheek as a pillow. Now that he was more with it, Malcolm realized that it was a dark cashmere scarf. 

That jolted him into moving. This wasn’t a cheap piece of fabric. He’d feel terrible if he didn’t get it back to the guy. Dressing quickly, Malcolm was out of the room and to the parlor area in under five minutes. The scarf was clenched in his fists as he studied the crowd, trying to find the man. He casually moved around the tables in an attempt to find his partner but not draw attention.

After about fifteen minutes of walking in circles, Malcolm gave up. The man seemed to have disappeared after giving the last order. Bright went back and forth on leaving the scarf at the bar so that there was a chance the man got it back _but_ it was very nice. He didn’t want to chance it not getting back to the proper owner. The body language and attitude the man exhibited wasn’t consistent with giving aftercare or leaving gifts.

\---  
  


He’d followed Malcolm from their lunch to Claremont, which must have been the meeting that Malcolm had talked about during their call. He didn’t know the whole relationship dynamic between Martin and Malcolm. Seeing his Blue come out looking on the verge of tears and rage had him wanting to comfort the younger man. Watching the cab roll to a stop outside the club concerned and intrigued him. Luck was with him that he was also a member. Val had just smiled warmly when he walked in. It’d been a few years since he’d visited. The last time was with Jackie.

Gil watched from a darkened corner as far from the bar as possible. His eyes followed Malcolm as he made rounds around the tables, his gift clutched tightly in his hand. _Oh, Blue, you’re too good._ Malcolm seemed to be searching for the man he’d let fuck him. Rage and jealousy burned as he’d watched Wilson take Malcolm apart. They’d worked together in the past so when he’d stepped into the room after the scene was finished Wilson didn’t make a sound. Gil slipped the man a wad of cash so he wouldn’t let Malcolm up. 

It was obvious by Malcolm’s words when he’d removed the gag that Blue had planned on doing a scene but not allowing aftercare. _Picked the perfect one for that,_ Gil mused as Malcolm twisted the scarf gently between his fingers and then left. _Wilson definitely isn’t one for making sure subs are safe._

Even though watching another man have Malcolm was almost too much, it was worth the chance to give Malcolm the aftercare he tried to fight. That and learning a couple of places on Malcolm’s body that he would definitely use against him. _The neck hold, oh Blue we’re gonna use that a lot, I can tell._ He was thankful that Malcolm seemed so out of it that he hadn’t recognized the change in between Wilson and himself. Touching Malcolm’s body in a way that he hadn’t expected to for a long while was heady. All those beautiful red marks and how Malcolm followed his orders just cemented Jackie’s choice for him and that they’d be compatible in bed.

 _Soon Blue, soon_ , Gil thought as he started to leave the club. _Now to set up our next date._


End file.
